


Oblivion's Light

by Asilvermoment



Series: Oblivion's Light [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, F/M, League of Assassins - Freeform, Nanda Parbat, Survival Training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 49,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1670888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asilvermoment/pseuds/Asilvermoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beginning tale of how Sara and Nyssa meet, develop their relationship, fall in love, and face trials together and apart throughout their time at Nanda Parbat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In My Sights

The first time she saw the ship it was ablaze, capsizing close to the shore of that island. Her father used to casually tell her of the accursed place in bedtime stories, teasing her fears to the surface; he spoke of monstrous death and surviving on your own with nothing but utter desolation carving your path as a shield. He told her that perhaps one day, if she was lucky, she would learn to conquer her fears of surviving alone when confronting such circumstances...

Nyssa squinted and shielded her eyes against the conflagration. The noxious scent of the explosion made its way into her nostrils and breathed new life into her mission. The time to wait was over now. Her father had sent her for one purpose-- murder the mad doctor, Ivo, and take the miracle drug back to Nanda Parbat. She did not question his orders, but had wondered why this substance was miraculous. What could possibly equal their arts of healing back in their fortress, deep down in the pits?

She signaled to her compatriots, two veteran assassins much older and more experienced than herself. They made their way into position, steering the small vessel toward the sinking ship. Her eyes settled on the flames, which eagerly licked at the horizon and contrasted the languid movements of the waters. The groaning and creaking of the ship played as a harmony to the crackling bursts of energy being released from the flames; how they danced. Something caught her gaze, quickly at first, as if it was an illusion of fire... she concentrated on the spot again, her hand instinctively grabbing the hilt of the dagger at her waist, bracing for an enemy attack. Fingers poised to strike, she let her vision settle upon the spot again... to the left of the ship's broadside was the reflection of a body floating in the sea.

"Optics" Nyssa snapped to her elders, and one of them handed her a pair of binoculars. She leveled the instrument to the spot along the water and adjusted the nobs until a focused image settled before her eyes. The floating figure was lithe, smaller than she expected. The body belonged to a young woman. Nyssa caught her breath in her throat. The woman was at complete mercy to the rocking of the waves, falling debris and ash surrounding her. She was unconscious... which meant that she must have been a passenger on the ship at the time of the explosion. Nyssa felt something tug at her insides; the energy was similar to the vitality of the flames, consuming in its capacities. Before she realized what she was saying, she uttered, "Steer us to that woman. We need to extract her from the water." The command sounded questionable once stated aloud, and at the hesitant gaze of her fellows, Nyssa glared and raised her voice. "She was a passenger. She could have been involved with the making of the drug my father wants us to retrieve. Do it! NOW!" The eldest assassin nodded, his emotions masked by his black hood and facial coverings, and steered their ship toward the floating woman.

They reached her quickly, feeling the sweltering heat from the explosion burn their backs. The two assassins leaned forward over the side of their boat, grasping onto the woman's limbs and heaving her aboard. Her body limply rolled onto the deck; she was face down and her clothes were ragged and torn. Nyssa gave the order for turning the ship around and heading back to port. It was clear that the sinking ship was nothing but wrecked fodder for the sea now. As evidenced by the state of the rescued woman's health, it was unlikely that the explosion had mercy on any other survivors. 

On the return journey, Nyssa couldn't help but continue to glance over at the woman... no, the girl... perhaps woman... She was so young, yet she wore an expression in her slumber of resonant, deep pain. Pain all too familiar to Nyssa. It was the pain of having witnessed too much destruction in a short time period, the pain of being untimely seized from one reality into another... In short, it was the pain of killing another, of taking a life. And Nyssa could sense that despairing sorrow etched into the brow of the sleeper's face, her damp dark blonde hair framing an otherwise youthful visage. Nyssa surveyed the woman up close and noticed that, even while asleep, her worn hands were clenched into tight fists. Her black tank top and pants had significant frays and tear, and her skin was marked with deep bruises and cuts. Walking over to the woman's side, Nyssa reached out slowly, almost timidly. Something about this woman utterly drew her near and fascinated her. Perhaps it was those clenched fists... Nyssa moved her fingertips to the woman's closed palms and softly worked the woman's fingers open, one by one, delicately unwinding them from their silent fury into a relaxed state. Once the sleeper's hands lay at her sides, Nyssa pressed the pads of her fingertips to the woman's and traced a path down those hands, letting her gaze linger along the lines she traced. The woman let out a faint sigh and her eyes fluttered in her sleep, her brow no longer furrowed by the expression of mingled contempt and fear. She was at peace, tension slowly uncoiling itself from her limbs.

Nyssa sat there quietly, keeping the woman in her sights, until the starlit night wound on into the early hues of morning.


	2. Seaworthy

It felt like reverie, like time had been suspended into nothingness and light had filtered back in from the void of before.

It felt as if the cold cell walls of the ship had melted away and something new was replacing the darkness... what _was_ it? Perhaps it was the sensation of being surrounded by moonlight while submerged in silence...

But where  _was_ she? _Who_ was she?

_Who am I?_

Sara's eyes snapped open at the question and she bolted upright. "Arghhhh" escaped her lips and she grimaced, bracing herself up with her less injured arm and clutching her side with the other. Her vision blurred in and out, and a caterwauling ringing infiltrated her eardrums. Thoughts of moonlight vanished and the pain washed over her. The heaviness gripped her, and she slid down.

Something stopped her momentum and began to push back. Her eyes fluttered again, searching for this new means of stability... surely her own legs couldn't be the reason. "Ollie" she weakly muttered and turned to face her helper. Probing dark eyes, almost obsidian in color, met her own blue and stared without pause, almost questioningly. Sara reeled, her own eyes widening out of fear, and she desperately tried to free herself. The figure let go, and Sara hit a wooden deck hard, her already bruised body aching from the impact.

"If you don't seek my help, then you shall stand through your own suffering..." the voice commanded, a silken tempest upon the breeze. Sara gazed up, her palms bracing her weight on the wood, and she saw the owner of the voice: a woman with long black hair, dressed in an outfit of ebony. Those obsidian, searching eyes were still trained on Sara, demanding conviction and strength. The woman's lips were pursed and she spoke again, "Get up."

"Who are you?" Sara managed, not moving a muscle. Her thoughts were racing as she fervently recalled the events prior to her waking up here... _the Amazo. Oliver's plan. Oh god... Oliver. Is he... dead? What happened to the crew? I shot him. I shot Ivo. We were going to escape. We were going to get out..._

"I refuse to offer my appellation until you stand, prisoner, and prove you are seaworthy!" She kicked Sara's side hard as encouragement.

Sara felt heat rise into her face, as she channeled her pain into a forced movement. Her knees skid slightly as she struggled to gain her balance. Everything was swirling in front of her eyes, as if she was being sucked out of the ship, screaming, once more. What small measure of control she had right now, in this instant, had to be her sole focus. Wobbling and still clutching at her ribs, Sara clambered to her feet. Every inch of her ached and she wished she could collapse. But if her time on the island had taught her anything about circumstances such as these, she had taken away one critical lesson: open obedience and quiet resistance buy time. And time dictates a better chance of survival.

She stood straight, facing her aggressor. The woman half smiled and began circling Sara, taking deliberate steps. "My name is Nyssa al Ghul, daughter of Ra's al Ghul-- the Head of the Demon."

Sara's faced remained contained and expressionless, clearly aggravating the woman. Sara assumed that Nyssa's title was usually not met with such callous apathy. Nyssa stopped circling and came close to Sara's face. "And, who are you?"

Sara inhaled sharply, her breath coming in fragments due to the spasmodic sensations in her lungs. "My name... is Sara. Lance..." she struggled.

Nyssa's eyes narrowed and she motioned toward the direction the ship currently traveled. 

"Perhaps, where we are going, you will choose to cast aside that name if you are offered the cherished opportunity to... This is assuming you survive long enough to prove ownership of your current name." She paused, then something came over her expression but Sara couldn't read it well. Was it kindness?

Nyssa spoke again. "Don't let your pain conquer you. Join it and devour it." She was facing the ocean now, a misted look across her face, her black hair moving with the waves.

"I was once told, " _Man is a bird without wings and a bird is a man without sorrow._ " Mend your wings by destroying your sorrow. Only then do you begin to understand the delights of freedom." 

The words brought silence and a strange sense of peace. Sara felt the reverie again, this time playing along the wind, and she knelt down and closed her eyes. Once more, the serenity of silent moonlight washed over her and she drifted into tender sleep.

 

 


	3. The Pits

There was still a faint murmuring of a pulse. Nyssa pressed her ear to Sara's unconscious chest and closed her eyes momentarily, letting all other sounds fade. There it was-- a distant, rhythmic echo of life... a stubborn strand clinging on. Though she had superior training in the healing arts, being on the sea and still a ways out from the cool, stone walls of Nanda Parbat was proving to be the ultimate detriment. It probably didn't help that her kick to Sara's side had broken another rib, which was now dangerously close to puncturing an internal organ should pressure be further placed on the wound.

Her elder, Navid, placed a firm hand on Nyssa's shoulder. His voiced rasped, "We have a message from your father." Nyssa shook her head, swiftly leaving Sara's side to move to the communications station by the bow of the ship. As she approached, the electronic crackling of the transmitter grew louder and then a voice seized the frequency. " _Ana ibhab binteh_ " it said, a code. Nyssa echoed the words of love to her father and picked up the radio, whispering, " _Jaahiz'za_... speak. Your heir listens." 

The assassins instinctively cleared out of the cabin, leaving Nyssa to absorb her father's words alone. She silently pleaded for them to stay... there were so many burdens her father had solely passed to her. Hearing this message would prove to only heighten that weight. Ra's al Ghul always spoke for a purpose, and there was a steep price for his words, especially far from home.

"Do you have the drug?" he pressed, waiting for nothing.

Nyssa twitched where she stood, directing her gaze outside the cabin to where Sara lay. "No, father," she began. Silence and the eerie crackling spoke as his answer... demanded reasoning: "As we approached, the ship was devoured by flames, split in the middle, and sinking to the depths. We recovered a passenger. She could be valuable in providing us knowledge about the substance, or the work of the doctor." Silence again. "My immediate intentions are to take her to the Pits, if I have your ultimate permission to utilize their properties... the woman, Sara, is slowly dying from her injuries. She is of no _use to us_ dead." Her last words were deliberate, calculated.

"Then you understand that you will held _responsible_ by our creeds if this woman perishes." The brevity of his response belied its sheer gravity. 

"Yes," she responded, her face stone. Her eyes were locked on Sara's body; they searched fervently for answers, etched somewhere along her frame. The radio clicked off, the static fading to lifelessness once more, and her associates re-entered the cabin. Nyssa brushed past them, issuing a command to increase their speed. Now, the swiftness of their travel dictated the breadth of her own life as well as Sara's.

Reaching Sara's body, Nyssa unintentionally played the conversation over again in her head. Her father's reaction made it clear that his disappointment in failing to secure the drug was paramount to any other concerns, including allowing his daughter to live. Yet, he had acquiesced to grant her access to the Pits, where no one but himself and the elder healers had traveled before... those subterranean pools had worked their own miracles on the maimed, battered, and nearly dead many times before. They were legend, and they were forbidden. _This is a test of inheritance..._ Nyssa thought, her gaze once again upon Sara's broken body.

_My fate is bound to hers._


	4. The Fang That Protects The Head

They had reached the hidden fortress by waterway, navigating slowly through the mire by lantern light. The cold mountain air stung Nyssa's lungs as she inhaled. It had been a while since she had returned home; yet, nothing had changed. The castle looked unusually peaceful nestled in the promontories surrounding it... she knew quite well that the serenity was illusory. Her stark memory of death inside those smooth walls betrayed its peaceable exterior.

The small boat glided across the water, through canals where firelight flickered amongst the slick walls. They were drawing ever nearer to the Pits, and Nyssa's heart raced, partly from anticipation of beholding the wondrous sight and partly from fear. She remembered all too well her father's message. Sara was laying at the bottom of the boat, her dark blonde tresses coated with salt, her skin a shade too pale.

She was fading fast.

The boatman steered them to a granite shore, casting a rope to the guard who then hauled them over to the dock. The guard bowed deeply as Nyssa stepped out of the boat; his arms raised up above his reverently bent head. He silently offered a parchment scroll in his left hand and ceremonial robes of deep red in his right. Nyssa returned the bow and accepted the articles. She took off her own silken black robe and donned the deep red in its place. The guard spoke in a gruff voice, "Only open the scroll when you have reached the pool. It will instruct you on what to do." He turned away, issuing another bow, and resumed his station at the canal entrance. Nyssa stowed the parchment in a safe pocket in her robe and her thoughts returned to Sara.

Bending down, Nyssa scooped Sara's limb body up under the girl's arms, dragging her out of the boat and onto the stone. A fresh cut in Sara's calf trickled blood upon the sanctified floor. Nyssa picked up her own ebony robe and carefully wrapped it around the girl, protecting her exposed flesh from the rough stone. She could feel how clammy Sara's skin had become, how the waters were nestling deep, slowly making their home in her pores. Nyssa heaved Sara up again and warily dragged her ever downward into the cavern, blanketing them both in the wayward darkness. Slowly, a faint fluorescence replaced the inky darkness and the cavern walls beckoned them in further, toward the dancing shades.

Nyssa was sweating and her arms ached, as she pulled the girl's dead weight ever downward. "Almost... there..." she managed, not sure whether she was encouraging Sara or herself to hang on. She first noticed the bright liquid as the trickling substance fell from the cavern roof and made its way down the walls, slithering and cascading toward the center of the cavern floor where it joined a turquoise, opaque pool. Nyssa's eyes widened at the sight; she stopped and placed her hand underneath Sara's head while gingerly lowering the girl to the cavern floor. She reached into her robes and recovered the scroll. Undoing the black silk strand bound around the paper, Nyssa unrolled the parchment and gazed through cavern light at its delicately penned inscription.

 

" _The fang that protects the head, with a million filaments, distorts the heart._

_Dying is an art, like everything else. Do it exceptionally well._

_Then the fang that devours the end will issue a new start."_

 

Nyssa let the words of the inscription wash over her again and again. The words felt like enchantment, riddles echoed by the interchange of light along the walls. The fang that protects the head... distorts the heart. Her eyes narrowed suddenly and a shiver worked its way down the back of her neck.

She drew her dagger and loosened the fabric of her robe, drawing her hair back with one hand. Clutching the dagger with her right hand, she looked at Sara and inhaled. _'Dying is an art_ ' she mused silently to herself and plunged the dagger into her chest. Her shriek of agony rattled the cavern walls, haphazardly scattering the patterns of light. Pulling the dagger out, her wound seeping and her eyes glazing, Nyssa reached under Sara's arms again and stumbled backwards. She pulled them both into the pool, pleading that her interpretation of the scroll proved worthy.

She held on to Sara, her good arm wound tightly around the girl's chest as they both submerged underwater. The moments that passed were like nothing Nyssa had ever experienced before. She was at total and complete peace, and the soft undulation of the water elegantly moved them both. Nyssa watched, almost as in a dream, as her blood seeped into the water. Yet, it didn't taint the ripples with a deep crimson. The water changed the blood to a vivid fluorescence that seeped into them both.

Nyssa closed her eyes, lulled by the sensation... the rhythm that whispered of a thousand lifetimes....

Then the fang that devoured issued a new start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes about the Lazarus Pits:
> 
> *In the DC Verse, there are five pits worldwide.* The first belongs to Ra's al Ghul's daughter, Nyssa, who also discovered a way to use the pits indefinitely — whereas before a pit could only be used once.
> 
> Lazarus Pits are composed of a unique unknown chemical blend that bubbles up somewhere within the Earth's crust to the surface at key points on Earth, typically at the junction of ley lines. The substance possesses the ability to rejuvenate the sick and injured, and even resurrect the dead. The pits also decrease the age of the user depending on how long they stay submerged in the pit. If a healthy person goes into the pits, they will be killed in most instances.
> 
> Though Lazarus Pits are undeniably powerful and useful, they come with side effects, both of which happen immediately after the user emerges. The user both becomes temporarily insane and gains increased strength for a brief period.
> 
> With this information in mind, I depicted Nyssa's interpretation of the ceremony as one of personal sacrifice. She circumvents the *one time use policy* in an ingenious manner, by being willing to destroy herself (and therefore decrease her health before hopping into the pool, also side-stepping the *if you are healthy and jump in, there is a likelihood that you will die immediately effect*). 
> 
> The reason I had Nyssa do what she did is to show how her training as the Heir, as an exemplary assassin, is contradicting her selfless action in this scene. When Sara is around, something in Nyssa begins fighting her obligations; she acts of her own volition (her self-awareness will grow as to why through their time together).


	5. Lazarus

The childhood song played through her head, teasing her back to the waking world... The mothers of the League used to sing it to their children before they were sent off to their initial trials in the cascades. The song would echo through the halls of Nanda Parbat as the children approached the main gate, filling the stone towers with a euphonious chorus of spirited voices.

_"The mountains call us away,_

_To learn of our people's way._

_And Time, it stays, it stays, it stays,_

_In ancient halls of Lazarus's day."_

She would always watch, as a young girl, from her room aloft, as the children would carol the melodies again and again, moving playfully across the wildflower plateaus of their homeland toward the towering promontories that housed hardship and power.

The memories danced in her mind, pulling her along a path of light toward the entrance to the gate. Suddenly, she was afraid. Her steps faltered. She looked down at her feet but they were still moving, obediently, toward the opening yaw. ' _No!'_ she heard her young voice demand from afar, but her body kept going. Her father's harsh voice growled the command, ' _Take her to Jabal al-Nour - the Mountain. Teach her until she breaks. Then return her to me._ ' Tears welled up in her eyes as the two men seized both of her small arms and hauled her toward the gate, her legs swinging wildly for the floor. She had heard terrible tales of the Mountain of Light. 

She didn't want to die...

Nyssa's eyes snapped open out of instinctual fear. She was floating in that opalescent pool down in the depths. She clutched at her chest to stop the bleeding... nothing was there but whole flesh, unscathed. Her hands searched furiously for the dagger's entry point but it no longer existed. Everything felt whole, untouched. The word 'perfect' entered her mind and she banished it quickly. That notion was impossible; she had been told that the Pits held restorative properties, but to feel this renewed... this energetically pure... it didn't make sense at all. It felt as if traces of her physical memory had been erased; old scars that contained hurt beyond their sinew were light to the touch. 

"Unnnnnhhhhh" gasped someone behind her. Nyssa clutched at her floating dagger, still reeling from the effects of the pool, and whirled around. Her eyes flashed and she caught sight of Sara, who had half emerged from the pool and was clutching her head in her hands.

Nyssa eyed her wearily, taking in the sight of the girl. Sara's skin had an almost amber glow in the cavern lighting, much different from the pallor she exhibited along their journey here. Her long blonde hair shone with the reflection of the pool and softly framed her face, which was still covered by her hands. The deep bruising patterns were gone and her injuries seemed to have evaporated from her form, leaving a semblance of exuberance and health. She was alluring to behold.

Sara let out another heavy breath and took her shaking hands from her face, looking wild and stricken. Her bright blue eyes met Nyssa's and Sara began wading forward through the pool.

"You... saved me" she said. "You took me here..." her steps ceased and she stood close to Nyssa. Her eyes searched Nyssa's face, and welled with tears.

"WHY?! _WHY DID YOU SAVE ME?_ I WANTED TO DIE! I WANTED THIS NIGHTMARE TO _END_!!!"

Sara lunged forward and clutched at the neckline of Nyssa's silken robe; her movements were quick and her grip strong. Too strong. Sara's tears fell into the pool and her body heaved with sobs of despair as she stared into the pale face of her savior.

Sara clutched at her eyes, her knuckles turning white. "Aghhhhhhh!!!!" she screamed, doubling over. "Why does it hurt so much?!" She begged the air. Her body convulsed and she smacked the water with her palms. Torrents of the liquid shot into the air, momentarily decorating the roof of the cavern with color. Nyssa steadied her dagger hand-- her thoughts unfocused, her heart hammering.

Before she could ready a defense, Sara launched her knee up through the water and pummeled Nyssa square in the diaphragm. Nyssa gasped for breath and collapsed into the water, relinquishing the dagger. She struggled to breathe as her lungs convulsed rapidly from the intensity of the impact. A hand reached underwater and seized her by the throat, lifting her out of the pool and shoving her entire body back against the edge of the pool. Nyssa's eyes fluttered from the searing pain, as her back hit the stone edge a bit too hard, sending spasms of pain radiating through her nerves. She was finally re-gaining her ability to take in air, her lungs and heart working furiously. Instinctively, she gripped Sara's arm, attempting to activate critical pain sensors along the pressure points... anything to release Sara's insane grip upon her windpipe. Nothing worked; even deftly maneuvering her feet in position to take her aggressor off balance utterly failed. Sara's face was contorted with blind rage-- her eyes untamed, raging sapphires. Nyssa's head felt like it was going to burst. Her hands landed on both sides of Sara's gripping arm, pleading in their movements... begging for release.

Suddenly, Sara let Nyssa go. She clutched at her head again, swaying unsteadily in the pool.

Nyssa, exasperated, coughed out the trapped air in her chest and inhaled quickly, her lungs sputtering. Her body was undergoing shock from the lack of oxygen, yet the strangest sensation was pervading her form. The pool was tending to her wounds, nurturing her lungs with a cool salve.

Sara stood there, close to Nyssa, totally silent and unmoving. Her hands were back at her sides under the water and her still reflection caught the light of the pool. Her eyes had a glazed, cobalt appearance as she looked through Nyssa.

Nyssa didn't break the stare but tried peripherally searching for her weapon in the pool. If she was to die here, it would be honorable, a death fit for the Heir of the League.

Sara began to move toward Nyssa, taking undaunted steps. Nyssa's breathing hitched as Sara's body pressed hers against the edge of the pool. Those deep blue eyes caught Nyssa's and a smile curved Sara's mouth upward to one side. Sara moved her right hand forward, grasping Nyssa's hair... her fingertips ran through the dark strands, pulling the flustered woman's head back slightly. A guttural groan escaped Nyssa's throat as Sara moved in, her lips brushing along Nyssa's jawline. The spot where Sara's lips touched Nyssa's neck erupted with heat, and the sensation traveled throughout her body like a shudder.

Another breath escaped Nyssa's lips, but was captured, swiftly, by Sara's own lips. Sara's body arched into Nyssa's, releasing rivulets of water from the side of the pool... all the tension and pain Nyssa had experienced melted at the sensation of Sara's deepening kiss. It enveloped her, awakening deep elements in her body, setting off a chain reaction. Nyssa clutched at Sara's lower back, drawing the woman in deeper, feeling the emerging heat settle in her cheeks and thighs as their hips pressed together.

Then, Sara's body went slack and her eyes rolled back into her head. She slid into the water and Nyssa dove to retrieve the woman, her body still aching for Sara. What the hell had just happened?

"Seize that woman!!" the ceremonial guard barked at the two healers who rushed into the cavern, their white robes reflecting vibrant shards of light off the walls, causing Nyssa to blink repeatedly. Sara was lifted from Nyssa's arms and taken, dripping wet, through the tunnels. Nyssa stayed at the edge of the pool, her gaze far off; she was only half aware of what the guards were doing and saying. She heard them say, "She is ready for interrogation. Take her to the keep."

Nyssa's eyes closed and she lowered herself into the pool ever so slightly. Her head was pounding and her body was flooded with sensation, almost as if a soft poison had taken root at her lips and was sliding its way through her veins. Her lips hummed and reverberated with the lingering energy of Sara's warmth. A breath escaped the opening between Nyssa's lips. She remembered the warnings the healers had given her about how the Lazarus Pits sometimes caused those it healed to go utterly insane, haunted by their own invisible demons...

Had Sara gone insane? Was what followed merely a chemical effect of the pools, of being destroyed and re-made under its surface? Nyssa felt the words of the childhood song nagging at the back of her mind again... _'and Time, it stays, it stays, it stays...'_   Time had betrayed her; it lingered around her body, demanding action in the silence of her aftershock. It demanded resolve.

And Nyssa knew exactly what needed to be done.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why does Sara react the way she does-- rapidly going from fear to despair to pure anger to lust to passing out? 
> 
> The Lazarus Pits, as mentioned in the previous chapter, have an immediate effect on the healed: they gain momentary super strength and go temporarily insane. I wanted Sara's insanity to be volatile and subconsciously play out her deepest emotional responses from what has happened to her since being captured on the Amazo. 
> 
> Her insanity overwhelms her completely and renders her incapable of emotional control. Nyssa is the only one to remember what transpires, because once Sara passes out, she has no recollection of her actions in the pool (including kissing Nyssa).


	6. Interrogation

Sara awoke sitting in a white-walled stone room, her hands suspended above her, chained to the wall. She was barefoot and clad in a soft chromium robe; the fabric swirled around her limbs, insulating her body warmth against the rough cold of the sandstone beneath her. She gazed, disoriented, at the four walls-- trying to recall and understand the chain of events that led her here, wherever _here_ was. It was no use. The memories were stranded somewhere in her mind and, for once, she didn't care.

She closed her eyes and let her head tilt back against the stone wall. The ceiling was domed, and two open windows in the cut stone revealed the shining daylight outside. Beams of sunlight passed through the openings and lit up the chamber; and she let the warm glow bask upon her face. It reminded her of home...

***

Her phone pinged when she received the text.

"Are you here yet?" it read.

She glanced quickly around the room-- flashing a smile to Laurel, who smiled back and continued watching TV-- and then ducked into the kitchen. Standing by the window, with the open air and sun coating her back, Sara typed her reply to Ollie: "Yup." She waited a moment, surveying her family in the living room.

Her phone pinged again and she eagerly looked down, "Good. Come to the docks before sundown. And wear something... exciting." Sara sniggered and typed her playful response, "I have just the thing... see you then!" Stowing her phone, she turned to the window, a smile decorating her face. The thought of stealing away with Ollie made her incredibly excited, and her family being clueless made it even more of a thrill. 

Laurel snuck up behind her in the kitchen, turning on the sink nozzle and spraying her sister playfully. Sara turned, "Hey!" Laurel dodged as Sara grabbed at the nozzle. "Come on, Sara! I never see you. Let's go spend some time together!" Laurel entreated, and Sara's heart sank. She half-smiled back at her older sister, who had told her so many times growing up to 'go after what she wanted in life instead of letting opportunities pass her by.' If only Laurel had known how that advice got between them now. Sara moved in toward her sister, wrapping the brunette in a big hug. "I love you," Sara said softly, and Laurel's hand came to rest on Sara's hair. "Me too, sis" she said, and backing away from Sara, added, "Are you alright?" Sara's cheeks burned as she felt the lie well up in her chest. She couldn't stand lying to the people she loved. "Yeah, totally. I just... it's strange being home from school. This is the first time I have left since I started term and it makes me miss being little and carefree, running around with you."

Laurel's smile silently acknowledged Sara's nostalgia and, her eyes alight, added, "We can always return here. Home is our place to be free together."

_Free together..._

Sara stood at the docks, her floppy hat and rolling suitcase in own hand; her other hand shielded against the gleaming sun, which streaked the ocean with myriad tinges of light and dancing color. The ocean breeze stole through Sara's hair and she let out a sigh. All trapped feelings of guilt and worry left her body at the sight. Seagulls flew over the docks, squawking noisily. Their silhouettes danced before the light of the sunset. Sara felt a hand on her shoulder and she turned, pulling Oliver in for a huge hug. The broad shouldered man boyishly beamed back at her and beckoned to the _Queen's Gambit_. He made a half bowing motion, the bottle of champagne in his right hand held dramatically up in the air. Ollie gestured toward the entrance ramp of the  _Gambit_. "My lady" he swaggered, his eyebrows drawing together in mock seriousness. Sara laughed at the ridiculous gesture and grabbed her things, walking up the ramp.

She was more excited than anything to be adventuring freely into the sunset.

***

A sharp clanging of the chamber door broke Sara's trance and her head snapped forward. Two large men stood at the entrance to the chamber. One was brandishing a long black whip, which made Sara cringe as her gaze fell upon it. The man holding the whip was burly and clad head to toe in black silks. Only the slits of his harsh eyes were visible. The other man stood proudly, with impeccable posture. His deep brown eyes were set in a callous face which wore an enigmatic expression. He had dark brown hair and a brown beard, and wore flowing emerald robes with golden clasps and linings decorating the garb. A curved blade hung at his side, just as scythian as his gaze.

The man in the green robes walked over to Sara and knelt, his piercing eyes meeting her own. Looking into them made her fearful, as their deep brown felt hollow, somehow devoid of a crucial component of humanity... He smiled at her and spoke, as she averted those cruel eyes.

"I am Ra's al Ghul, Demon's Head. You are Sara Lance, I have been told." His voice trailed off for a moment and he tilted Sara's chin upward so her eyes met his. His face had contorted into a silent fury: "Sara, do you know what adversity is? Have you ever tasted true defeat?"

His words signaled the man in black, who came over to Sara and uncuffed her from the wall. Her hands fell in front of her, catching her fall. She glared up at them from all fours.

"Sara, the first rule of the League of Assassins is to speak when spoken to" Ra's al Ghul jeered. He put two fingers in the air and signaled to his partner, who cracked the whip upon Sara's back. She clattered to the floor, biting her lip hard from the flurry of pain.

Ra's continued to speak. "I assume you are familiar with the term, _Mirakuru_. I have spent a great deal of time and resources looking for this substance. You are going to make my empty-handed search worthwhile, with some information... everything you know about the drug."

The whip seared her flesh again and again; her whole body stung and tears involuntarily welled in her eyelids. She desperately wanted the pain to end, but was afraid that even if she told Ra's al Ghul what she knew of Ivo's twisted experiments, of Oliver and Slade... those eyes, his eyes, held no mercy. She would die thereafter.

It was in that moment that she thought of her father's grit, of Shado's sacrifice and of Oliver's true companionship. She **refused** to betray any of them, to destroy the meaning of what they had all provided her. She looked up into the face of the Demon and spat blood at his feet, "You're wasting your time."

Enraged, Ra's al Ghul laughed and motioned to the man in black, her executioner. Ra's bent his head and recited a meditative prayer for Sara in some foreign speech. The lyrical flow of the words washed over her, striking her as out of place in this bleak moment. "I release you," he said somberly, his partner lifting Sara up by her hair. No longer holding a whip, the man in black held what looked to be a ceremonial dagger. Sara's face filled with tears and she clung to the memory of her family.

" _Halast._ " The command came from a woman's voice and Sara's eyes widened at the recognition of the tone. Ra's al Ghul gazed at the shadows, where a beautiful woman lingered, dressed in deep red robes. Nyssa stepped into the chamber. She offered a bow and spoke, her voice like that of a spider's silk weaving among morning dew. "She survived the Pits, father. There is much we can learn from this woman. Perhaps, we stand to better persuade her through other means... I advise that Sara Lance be trained and submitted to the Trials."

The words hung in the air, weighty. Even the daylight rays felt dimmer. Sara looked, amazed, at Nyssa. She was confused and her back radiated with pain. Would she be spared yet again to just go through another person's vision of Hell?

Ra's judged the proposal and motioned for his partner to relinquish hold of Sara. "Once again, _binteh_ ," he stated, "be careful of what you ask. I am impressed with your finesse in the Pits. I grant you access to them whenever you seek their properties. However..." his eyes branded Sara.

"Your request will be honored. I bestow upon you full responsibility for _her_ pathetic life. Should she fail in the Trials, you will have aspired to the highest failure by our laws... This is your _only_ warning, daughter." Their gaze locked and his mouth twitched; the viridian robes turned, and the two men exited the chamber.

Sara clutched at the floor, spitting more blood onto the stone. Nyssa stood surveying her, coiled. She opened her mouth to speak and Sara interrupted her, "You have condemned me to this." She looked at Nyssa accusingly. Her voice faltered, " _I don't understand..._ why won't you let me die?"

Nyssa's eyes softened slightly around the edges.

"Because, Sara Lance, you have brought life."

The words caught Sara off-guard, and she looked at the woman in front of her. She didn't comprehend the gravity of what Nyssa was saying, but felt an urgency of truth in the woman's words. Being alone with Nyssa brought a better sense of peace than being with the woman's father. Nyssa's eyes, while entrancingly deep, did not share her father's lack of compassion. They were exuberant orbs, full of clarity and something unrecognizable but pure. Somehow, Sara trusted those eyes.

Nyssa offered her hand to Sara. Sara looked at the hand and remembered Oliver's silly gesture before she had entered the boat-- that choice had changed her life, had changed her so much; she wasn't sure how to recover from the acceptance of his hand that day. This transition felt similar, and it frightened Sara, deep in her bones. Her gut told her to take the chance, to keep moving forward, to leave this stone-walled entrapment and traverse the unknown beyond the chamber wall.

In the silence, Sara heard a faint chirping outside-- a bird was warbling, greeting the day with a delicate morning song. _If such beautiful life can be outside, I have to keep going_... she reasoned with herself, and grabbed hold of Nyssa's hand. The woman helped her off the floor and slung Sara's arm around her shoulder for support. With Nyssa bearing the majority of Sara's weight, they slowly walked together out of the chamber and into the halls of the fortress of Nanda Parbat.

 


	7. Cleansing

Sara was getting heavier from exhaustion, her bare feet slowly trodding across the stone floor. Nyssa could imagine that Sara's back was still throbbing; it felt hot to the touch, and Nyssa's arm curved gently around the slack girl's upper body to help ease her up.

They were almost to her bed chambers in the Northwest wing of Nanda Parbat. Children who ran by stopped to glance at the strange woman with golden hair whose face stared down at the floor. Their eyes opened wide and they pointed earnestly, motioning to each other. Nyssa gave them all a significant glance and a small smile and they stopped ogling the strange woman, immediately resuming their frolicking play down the halls. Nyssa and Sara had finally reached her chamber.

Nyssa shifted Sara's weight to her left side and knocked on the door to the ante chamber. An older woman with a kindly face opened the door and gasped slightly at the sight. She quickly bowed to Nyssa yet accused, "Nǐ chīfàn le ma?!"

The woman's wrinkled eyes took sight of Nyssa and Sara and she scoffed, disapprovingly; still muttering her worry aloud, she turned and fetched two other elderly woman, dressed in loose white robes. They quickly came over and took Sara out of Nyssa's grasp, gingerly carrying the woman over to a healing bath.

Nyssa didn't realize until now how much she missed them. She turned over the matronly observations in her head, replying, "Yes, Dawa, I have recently eaten." Nyssa's eyes lit, "Hǎo jiǔ bú jiàn... nǐhǎo ma?"

Dawa came over and clasped Nyssa's hand with her two, gazing into the young woman's eyes. "Wǒ hěn hǎo, nǚ'ér," Dawa said lovingly, patting Nyssa's hands. Dawa signaled with her eyes toward the balcony and Nyssa nodded, understanding the woman's request.

Stepping onto the balcony, Nyssa breathed deeply, inhaling the mountain air. She removed her black leather boots and stood on the cool stone, striding over to her prayer wheel. The colored prayer flags that were suspended above her head danced in the light breeze, welcoming her home. With a swift motion, she shifted her torso and pulled the prayer wheel back... then, she let it go and it spun, the whistling wind moving the metal around and around. Nyssa could hear Dawa and the women softly humming and singing their meditations of healing. Nyssa smelled the familiar scent of incense and medicinal herbs being ceremoniously tossed into the bath waters.

She turned to gaze inside and caught glimpse of Sara's nude back, so torn up with recent wounds. The rest of the woman's legs and arms were clear of injury and ruin... just the broken flesh on her back gleamed a disparate pink against the amber glow of the bath chamber. Nyssa watched as the healers helped lower Sara into the tub. Steam rose from the water and Sara cried out when the heat and medicine touched her back. Nyssa's eyes closed as she heard the sounds of splashing water. Sara was in excellent and kind hands, as sponges and prayers washed over her.

Nyssa re-opened her eyes, and gazed, determined, at the Mountain. Her mind clear, she slowly began to sing to herself. " _May it be that the embodiment of compassion grips me. May the true sound of truth ring clear. May I attain through humility... all that I will not fear..._ " She repeated the refrain a few times, the wind as her accompaniment. The Mountain of Light loomed and so did its peril. Tomorrow, Sara would have to face her initial trial... and Nyssa was tasked with teaching her how to survive. 

After what seemed like hours, the sun began to set, framing the towering peaks with emblems of light. They finally became enshrouded silhouettes and the healers, exhausted from their efforts, indicated that Sara was ready to emerge from the tub after Nyssa's benediction.

Nyssa strode into the chamber, breathing in the fresh scent of herbs. She kneeled at the side of the tub and caught Sara's blue gaze. Sara's cheeks flushed light pink at the acknowledgment of her nudity, and Nyssa lifted her silk veil to her dark eyes-- both granting herself more comfort and allowing Sara to feel less exposed.

Dipping her hand into the water and withdrawing some of the liquid, Nyssa spoke: "We take you as our refuge and pray that your strength never forsakes you, your devotion never abandons you, and your suffering never cripples you. With this, I invoke my responsibility-- by our people and the League-- to safeguard you and teach you, so long as you are faithful." Nyssa poured the water over her own eyes and the women murmured the prayer and did the same. Sara began to silently shake, tears streaming down her eyes. 

Nyssa's chest grew heavy and she unveiled her face, looking at Sara. "There is no more time for tears. Rest tonight. Clear your mind of all you have seen... for tomorrow, you will learn to be truly strong. Dispel your fears now, Sara."

She got up and left the bath chamber, letting the women wrap Sara's wounds and dress her in silk for sleep. Nyssa's mind gripped with hesitation. It would take all of _her own strength_ as well to go back to that place, let alone teach another to navigate its ways. Nyssa walked over to her bedside and picked up her dagger, moving it around her hand, letting the blade gleam in the half-light of the room. This is all she had been given before being left in the Mountain of Light for three days. It had been her only defense against the horrors inside... how far she had come now.

All those terrible lessons were about to pay off.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The main language spoken in Tibet is Mandarin, which is what the healers in this chapter are speaking to Nyssa. In present day, it is shown that Sara knows not only how to speak Arabic, but also Mandarin.
> 
> Here is the Mandarin conversation between Dawa and Nyssa, translated:  
> Nǐ chīfàn le ma?! - Have you not eaten?!  
> Hǎo jiǔ bú jiàn... nǐhǎo ma? - Long time no see... how are you?  
> Wǒ hěn hǎo, nǚ'ér - I am well, daughter.


	8. The Pass

"It's time to go."

Nyssa's command wound its way around the forming pit in Sara's stomach. She concentrated on what was in front of her instead. The healers had laid out an outfit for Sara-- the fabric was all black. A silken black shirt, black leggings and black leather boots. Sara got dressed, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her body looked so much different than it had back on the Amazo... on the island. White bandaging strips coated her back and the distinct smell of herbs coating her skin made her eyes water. Small splotches of blood made their way through the bandages. Yet, the rest of her body was flawless. Even the dark bags under her eyelids, formed from the countless nightmarish encounters and sleepless nights on the island, were gone. She looked unblemished.

Nothing could be further from the truth. But there wasn't time to dwell on that now. Not with Nyssa waiting outside for Sara... not with the awaiting burden of unknown trials, surely full of suffering, lying in front of Sara's path. A soft padding noise interrupted her thoughts. Sara turned around to face the elderly healer, Dawa, who was bobbing up and down with polite bows. That woman's careworn smile and calming gaze gave Sarah a small measure of comfort. The woman beckoned Sara over to her, gesturing and nodding her head hurriedly. Sara approached Dawa, who looked up into Sara's eyes and pulled something out of her pocket. Sara looked down at the token being offered to her. The woman spoke fervently in what Sara assumed was Mandarin, because she had heard Nyssa and Dawa speaking it together last night by firelight. Their voices and the melodic timbre of their speech, coupled with the crackling wood, had been the only thing to ease Sara off into sleep.

"I'm sorry," Sara said apologetically, "I don't understand you..." the woman waved her hand at Sara, almost dismissively, and peered into Sara's eyes again. She reached out for Sara's hand and placed a bundle of fabric in her palm.

Sara stared down, confused. Dawa sensed Sara's bewilderment at the gift and began gesturing again. She grabbed the fabric and pull on the opposite ends of the threads; they seemed incredibly pliable, yet strong. At the abrupt thud of the door swinging open, Dawa hurriedly stuffed the black silken fabric back into Sara's palm.

All Sara could do was bow her head in gratitude and offer silent thanks for the strange gift. The old woman beamed, ushering Sara out of Nyssa's bed chamber.

Sara immediately stowed the strange silk and walked over to where Nyssa stood. The raven haired woman wore a flowing black overcoat; underneath, a red tank top and black leggings hugged her lean figure. A black quiver was slung across her back and the arrows resting inside sported red and black feathers. A similarly embellished bow was gripped in Nyssa's right hand.

Sara couldn't help but stare at the bow, the quiver. Her mind was racing as her thoughts played images of Shado... crumbling to the jungle floor, blood trickling out of her forehead as Oliver's screams shook the treetops. Ivo's gun smoked, his eyes poisoned by greed and the lackadaisical disapproval of the general pitiful conditions of mankind. Sara recalled Oliver, later, donning Shado's green hood and adopting her likeness as a hunter-- his expressions had forever changed that day. Every semblance of the boy Sara had known, the carefree spirit, had been killed along with Shado. _What of her own self?_ Sara wondered.  _Did I die that day too, despite Oliver saving me? How many times have I died since that day?_ Her gaze faded past the feathered ends of Nyssa's arrows and landed on the mountainous horizon as the memories seized hold of her.  

"Here," Nyssa stated, tossing Sara a small sack and a long bamboo rod. "It would be in your best immediate interest to hold onto those items."

Nyssa's eyes narrowed and her lips pursed together. She drew one of the arrows from her quiver and placed it in her bow, pulling back the string and breathing in softly. Her lengthy breath contradicted the agile movement with the weapon. She released the arrow and it whistled through the air and over the Northern gate of Nanda Parbat, landing somewhere outside of the fortress.

A rumbling began, as if the Earth was noisily groaning to life, and, slowly, the gate lifted. Sara watched as morning light filtered in through the enlarging gap. Beyond the gate lay a plateau, then what looked to be a rocky mountain pass. The sunlight faded into dark clouds as her vision passed along the path, up to a steep stretch of mountain. Nyssa turned to Sara and motioned, "Let's go."

Sara slung her pack over her shoulder and let her hands trace down the bamboo staff. It felt like the only thing steadying her, so she gripped it tightly, knuckles whitening. Her father's voice suddenly appeared in her head as she took her first steps, following Nyssa's path. " _Look at me, Sara. Everything you do in this life, honey, you do with dignity._ " She had a difficult time putting the advice in context, but heard the sincerity of her father's voice-- she felt his meaning now. She lifted her head so it was no longer bent toward her feet and walked with purpose, catching up to Nyssa. The woman gave Sara a sidelong glance before resuming their silent trek across the arid steppes.

She heard Nyssa's voice carry with the wind. "The people call it _Shangri La_... the Rooftop of the World."

"What do _you_ call it?" Sara questioned.

" _Jannah al-Jahannam_..." Nyssa uttered, amused that Sara caught on to the subtlety. 

"In English..." Sara snapped, annoyed.

Nyssa's irritated stare was her due response.

"The Heaven of Hell."

Sara's grip tightened on the bamboo and she looked at the mountain pass ahead of them.

"Great..."

 

 


	9. Into Shadow

The climb became much more arduous and Nyssa's body ached with the joy of being so alive and free. The looming promontory of the mountain before her no longer gave her pause. She relished the chance to challenge herself once more... this time, the true danger was Sara's, not her own. She turned around once in a while to make sure Sara could keep up.

Every time they caught each other's gaze, Sara's sapphire eyes would glint and she would grit her teeth together, bracing her body for another push, another step forward. Nyssa could tell the blonde was growing tired as they swiftly ascended the rocky trail. Nyssa turned around to watch Sara's climb. She observed the struggle in the woman's limbs, noticing that Sara was completely devoid of trail knowledge. She proved oblivious to the fact that the smaller rocks were more treacherous to step on than the larger boulders that callously jut out here and there along the path.

But it wasn't time to guide Sara. Not yet. She had much to prove before she had the privilege of listening to an insider's recommendations. Instead, Nyssa smiled as she watched Sara struggle-- she was at least twenty paces away, lagging behind significantly. Sara frustratingly pushed some damp strands of golden hair away from her face and looked ahead at Nyssa, catching sight of the assassin's knowing smile.

"You think this is funny..." Sara huffed, "am I entertaining to you?"

About to respond, Nyssa's eyes fell on the slight shifting pattern on the ground close to Sara.

While disappointed that Sara wasn't watching where she was stepping, Nyssa didn't vocally correct Sara's almost fatal mistake. Instead, she drew an arrow from her quiver and pulled back until she felt the bow's sinews stretch to their limit. The red fletchling rest quietly upon her cheek; an instant later, the arrow sliced through the air and pierced the skin of a snake, which lay completely dead and inches from the soles of Sara's left boot.

"AGHHHHH!" Her face blanching at the sight of the skewered snake, Sara drew back instantly, falling to the ground. Her legging tore on a jagged rock and she used a hand to cover the wound, while her other grasped at the bamboo rod that had clattered to the ground. As quickly as she had fallen, Sara propelled herself back up into a partially defensive standing position. Nyssa was impressed with the girl's reflexes-- they bode well for future... incidents.

"Holy shit!" escaped Sara's mouth.

Sara stared at Nyssa, whose bow arm was still flexed and ready to strike, another arrow nocked.  
Nyssa couldn't help but let out a laugh.

"Yes, I confess you are terribly amusing," Nyssa responded to Sara's former question.

Sara's expression went blank for a second and then she smiled ever so slightly. "Thank you, Nyssa."

Nyssa immediately stopped laughing and she entreated, "For what?"

"Saving me. Again..." Sara said while glancing into Nyssa's eyes.

Nyssa felt her cheeks flush at the thought of Sara remembering what had happened in the Lazarus Pits; she quickly covered the sensation up by barking, "As of yet, there is no need to offer your thanks. Save that for when it's truly deserved."

Sara nodded, though her brows drew together in confusion. "I already think you deserve it. You pulled me, mostly dead, from that wreck and somehow now my body is healed except for the lashes your father's man gave me in the tower... and I have had plenty of opportunities to die so far, but you have kept me alive." Her voice trailed off, and Nyssa's eyes glowed.

"Why?" came the simple question.

Nyssa contemplated what answer to give. Many swam through her thoughts and betrayed her calm exterior. _Because your soul is pure... unlike everyone's here. You have knowledge of the miracle substance and your time on the island is critical to my furthering a position alongside my father... I deeply fear what is to befall me if I fail to uphold the Laws of the League..._ All logic passing through the channels in Nyssa's mind culminated to one thought. Her lips vibrated at the memory.

_Because you are special. You simply are._

Staring at Sara, Nyssa said, "I recognized the pain you have been put through and thought that if you could survive the ordeal you witnessed, surely you deserve a chance to prove your merit and forge a better life... That is why we are here."

Her hand motioned to the mountain and its looming shadows. "Here, begins your training. Should you secure your survival, you will earn the privilege of being trained as a member of the League of Assassins and I will be your mentor."

The influx of information washed over Sara, and she stayed silent, listening.

"I will be with you for the first hour, guiding you, after we pass through the mountain gate. Then you are on your own. Your ultimate goal is to find me and make me bleed. Should you fail this goal, your secondary aim is to design a way to prevent me from finding you... while surviving the _conditions_ inside the mountain depths."

Sara's eyes turned to ice. Nyssa could sense the fear prickling along the blonde's skin. She had felt similarly years ago when her father, empty of any compassion, told her the same... either kill or be killed. Have conviction to act or be destroyed by reacting.

"As I said before, Sara," Nyssa controlled her voice so it was as comforting as steel, "there's no proper need to thank me yet."

***

 


	10. Beyond the Veil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> من فضلك أعطني قوة The Arabic inscription translates to "Please, give me strength"

Sara's heart pounded in her chest. She thought of a million ways to escape as she traipsed after Nyssa. Her attention kept oscillating back and forth between staring at Nyssa's deadly quiver and glancing at the path under her feet. Her eyes darted around, begging for a chance to run. She knew in her gut that if her movements even minutely betrayed their path, Nyssa's predatory gaze would trap her to the spot.

There was no hope of attempting escape.

 _Plus, you're in the fucking Himalayas and your leg is bleeding. Where are you gonna go?_ she criticized herself sharply. She wished Oliver was here with her. There was greater security in numbers-- and Oliver could usually hold his own in a dire situation. He barely flinched when stared down and Sara had admired that about him. Her emotions were always displayed on her face, caught in her breathing, unable to stay quelled and controlled. She had always been that way... Laurel used to point it out to her all the time, flippantly remarking about how 'easy to read' Sara was; Sara couldn't stand the thought of her emotions betraying her now.

They were in the long shadows of the craggy mountain, the one whose name Nyssa rarely spoke. Sara tried to intuit where they were heading. Nyssa had mentioned some sort of entrance to the inside of the mountain, and the cooling air around Sara's face confirmed that they were nearing their unknown destination.

Sara hated not knowing what was about to happen-- her whole body ached with tension.

For all Ivo's monstrosity, at least he kept her abreast of his twisted plans. Nyssa, it seemed, enjoyed issuing dark riddles... letting only the smallest amount of information terrorize Sara into a frenzy. Nyssa's eyes would light up as she watched Sara's expressions shift to anything other than confidence. Sara's stomach dropped at the thought. The woman she was following was the _daughter of Ra's al Ghul_ , the man who relished torturing Sara for an ounce of information. She was his _daughter_. What did that make Nyssa capable of?

 _Yet_ , Sara weighed, _Nyssa has saved me twice... surely she hasn't gone through all that trouble to kill me here in some far off place..._ she gulped at the thought...  _without an audience._

A resonant roaring sound surged around Sara, at first distant but growing more powerful. She looked ahead and saw the source, a cascading waterfall carving out a new slope along the mountain face. There was a deep pool at the bottom, and their wet, rocky path descended to the base of the falls.

"If you slip, you die," Nyssa stated, sounding rather bored. "Follow me."

Sara felt a little bile building at the back of her throat and she choked it down with the sound of her own voice. "Nyssa!" she called. The onyx eyed woman turned around, cold mist whipping around her form.

"What is going to happen, once we get inside? Tell me..." Sara stammered, no longer wanting to play games.

Nyssa unsheathed her dagger and slammed Sara against the stone wall, pressing the chill blade against Sara's throat. She hissed, "Let me help you understand something right now... I am the Heir to the Demon and no one, NO ONE, speaks to me in such a manner." She exhaled furiously, nostrils flaring. "Your life is in my hands, and your soul is now in the custody of the League. Obey my commands if you value your life." She released Sara, who felt shell-shocked and angry at the same time.

"You have no idea what I've been through and how much I HATE being here!" the blonde yelled. "I'm not your play thing and I'm NOT your slave. If you want to kill me, then do it but I will not simply follow you into some forsaken cavern to just die without so much as a reason!!!" Standing her ground, legs shaking, Sara stared at Nyssa.

Nyssa's eyes were foggy, yet that fiery gleam still danced in her pupils.

"I admire your will, Sara... I surely have no understanding of what you have been through, but I know all too well what strength and restraint it takes to survive _here_. And you will need every bit of that resilience in addition to your obdurate behavior."

She bristled with energy when she spoke, "Know, Sara, that I have no pity for you. Life is cruel and dark; you must learn to navigate its depths to really live."

Sara's mouth twitched and she approached Nyssa. "Look, Nyssa, I will do what I have to... just... can you promise me one thing?" Nyssa looked startled, but Sara continued. "If I die here, can you tell my family I love them and I'm sorry... please, tell them."

Sara watched as the woman's face fell behind her silk veil.

"I swear it," Nyssa uttered.

The mountain remained so quiet except for the roar of the Falls; they both continued the descent toward the pools, Nyssa motioning left and right to demonstrate how to avoid slippery, treacherous rocks. Sara began to understand what to look for, taking note of the grime patterns that laced their way along the jagged rocks. She ignored the cut on her calf that stung even more fiercely from all of the airborne moisture.

Time seemed to pass slowly for a while and Sara relaxed, becoming more in tune with her surroundings and more accustomed to Nyssa's manner of leading them forward. With the sounds of the waterfall, she almost felt at peace but a wellspring of worry kept finding its way back into her gut. She ached to trust Nyssa but had been put back in her place numerous times now. She didn't know what would set the woman off... or even worse, what Nyssa had meant by 'making her bleed or not letting her find you.'

Sara had been taught how to fend for herself but not against a born and bred assassin. Her bamboo staff had nothing sharp about it, the silk that Dawa gave her seemed pretty useless and her pack was incredibly light-- she wasn't sure what was in there. The prospect of going on an offensive against Nyssa was pretty laughable. 

They had stopped now at the base of the falls and Sara gazed up as the torrents of water rained down in front of her. Nyssa motioned for Sara to follow her along a wet and winding path toward the spine of rock supporting the water's downpour. She followed quietly; Nyssa seemed to be humming something. It was almost eerie, listening to the echoes of Nyssa's soft melody playing against the thunderous caterwauling of water and rock, percussive in nature. Nyssa's veil was up again and she turned time and again to make sure that Sara hadn't slipped off the narrow pathway to the back of the falls. 

The air became much colder and a draft moved up from inside the aqua-lit cavern behind the curtains of water. There was a strange inscription along the wall of the cavern, and Nyssa had stopped, kneeling and bending her head, her humming growing louder. She uttered beautiful words under her breath and took one of her arrows from her quiver. Letting the arrowhead scratch against the surface of the stone, she wrote another inscription.

**من فضلك أعطني قوة**

Her head bent, black hair spilling forward, Nyssa rummaged through her pack until she took out a candle with crimson wax and lit it with a match. Sara was moved by the poise and beauty of the woman's movements and the simplistic joy of the ceremony itself. Nyssa's new inscription glowed along the cavern wall, the flickering of the flame merging with the turquoise shadows from the watery wall nearby.

Nyssa placed her quiver and pack on the ground, and took off her overcoat, hood and veil. She sat on the cavern floor clad solely in her red tank and black leggings, her ebony hair falling gracefully over her toned shoulders. Sara felt wiry and disheveled compared to the woman in front of her. 

"Sara," Nyssa's hushed voice began, her dark eyes glinting in the light. "Now is the time for your most pressing questions. We have a short reprieve before we go our separate ways, and your inquiry will determine your preparation. I am able and willing to divulge whatever answers you seek until the wick burns out. When that happens, I will give you an hour to make your way away from me... into the mountain. Then, I will come find you. If I succeed in bleeding you first, then you forfeit your favor with the League... which means our arrangement will be cut short and you will perish. If not, if you manage to survive here for three days without my harming you, then you will have earned the right to be trained. If you manage to bleed me or injure me in some way, then not only will you have earned your training, but we will also be released from our time in the mountain."

The expression on Nyssa's face proved that she was indeed the heir to the Demon, or some demonic presence... Sara watched for a portrait or semblance of any emotion on the woman's face, but Nyssa's lips were tight, her eyes glaring. Everything that characterized the softness, the elegance of her personality moments ago was gone, totally darkened by circumstance and, Sara thought, duty. She had seen that kind of gaze before-- the kind where everything you loved slipped beyond your grasp and you were staring through a short of shroud. Slade had the same look in his eyes when he lifted Shado's body off the ground and cradled her in his arms... Oliver's eyes had sunk into darkness when he shot the men on the freighter.

There was a moment for all of them, where time seemed to elapse only as mockery of their actions-- it cavorted away before their eyes. Sara wondered what horrors Nyssa had experienced in this place to make her so devoid of emotion. The thought of such horror now being sprung upon her, with Nyssa as her huntress, worked its ways up Sara's spine.

 _Dignity_... her father's advice came. Sara looked into Nyssa's eyes and drew in a deep breath, allowing herself a moment to savor the air in her lungs before launching into her questioning.

 

 


	11. Demons

Nyssa focused on staying as present as possible while Sara rattled off her nervous questions, one after the other. The questions were elementary and nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that Nyssa hadn't heard before... numerous times.

She recalled the stream of potential initiates who had made it to this point in the past, braving the trail and the ghastly carapace of the tundra at dusk to simply die hours after sojourning into the mountain.

If they were lucky enough to survive for even that long... So many had perished inside-- she casually wondered whether Sara would come across any of the rotting bodies. Talia used to laugh gleefully whenever she heard the shrieks of an initiate discovering a corpse somewhere inside the echoing tunnels. The thought of her younger sister wrenched Nyssa's stomach... if Talia was here, Sara would surely be dead within the first hour.

Talia had a penchant for almost sadistic cruelty, toying with those she pursued only to give them a faint glimmer of hope before ending their days. She had always been that way, even when her and Nyssa played as young girls. Their father found Talia's spirit to be enthusiastic, much different from Nyssa's wary manner of assessing what needed to be done. Nyssa's superior training in martial arts, acrobatics, espionage, the healing arts and toxicology gave her numerous advantages over her opponents but she believed in fighting with honor; she refused to wantonly end lives. 

Her pride in this matter had cost her dearly in the past. _Especially here_ , she thought. She banished the memories to the corners of her mind. She wasn't ready to confront the grisly recollection of her own trials in the Mountain. It bubbled up, unwanted, and Nyssa remembered how Talia almost destroyed her humanity as a child, pushing her older sister to the brink of her morality and cruelty. Yet, it was exactly Nyssa's dark understanding of what it meant to survive and thrive that her father esteemed. It was her ability to act and her incredible intuition that set her on a pedestal compared to Talia.

And how Talia hated her for it...

Nyssa's attention snapped back to Sara. The blonde's eyes were full of a grim determination, yet her body movements betrayed her inner anxieties. She quibbled on, asking about potential food sources, whether another exit to the mountain existed aside from this entrance behind the falls, whether there would be other League members in wait... all excellent survival questions. All of the inquiries were met with bleak responses.

Nyssa observed Sara and began noticing that the woman looked more like a fearful girl-- so lost and alone inside. Was she hoping for a guardian of sorts, someone who could save her from the chaos around her? _No_ , Nyssa thought, _she desires_ _someone who could save her from the chaos within_. It struck Nyssa that Sara had had a charmed life back wherever she came from.

Nyssa saw Sara glance at the crimson waxed candle. She braced herself up with her bamboo staff and placed the pack over her shoulder. Peering down at Nyssa, Sara broke the assassin's partial reverie. "Nyssa, if you kill me in there, don't stab me in the back. I want to be facing you." The look was back, plastered over Sara's face. Nyssa relished peering at the woman like this-- _this_ was the core of her character. Staunchly determined, stubborn, full of dignity... Nyssa smiled at Sara. _  
_

"Then, let it begin," Nyssa stated. As if her words were incantation, the candle extinguished and an inky darkness and the smell of incense filled the cavern.

She could hear Sara's boots echoing off in the distance. Sara was trying to put as much distance as possible between the two of them within that first hour. Nyssa unsheathed her dagger and remained sitting on the cavern floor, listening to her prey's footsteps. 

A smiled curved its way along Nyssa's lips. Sara had made her first mistake.


	12. The First Hour

Sara could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. The whistling of cavern air rushed past her as she ran deeper into the Mountain, away from Nyssa. Her eyes were tearing at the corners from the sting of the cold air. Her legs ached already. _Not a good sign_ , her thoughts pleaded with her body.

She was trying to put together as much information as she possibly could about Nyssa, the League, the Mountain itself... Nyssa had said that the tunnels delved deep into the mountain and that there wasn't another entrance accessible. _Just because she says it isn't accessible doesn't mean there isn't one_ , Sara reasoned. Nyssa could have withheld important information to keep Sara trapped in the caverns, to limit her mindset. Come to think of it, Sara wasn't sure whether any of the responses Nyssa gave were _entirely_ truthful. She had no doubt that the woman told her enough information... just enough to form a backbone of a picture.

Sara slowed her pace down and crouched, the sound of her hammering heart ironically soothing her nerves. She wiped sweat away from her face and opened her pack. Dawa's silk fabric tumbled out and Sara took the mass and wound it around her blonde hair, creating a hood. There was no way she would give Nyssa the advantage of finding her due to her hair illuminating the darkness. She lifted two vials out of the pack. One was bright green and slightly lit. It helped her see the inside of the tunnel a bit more clearly. Putting it on the ground, she observed the other vial-- the liquid inside looked like sludge and when she uncorked the top, her whole body cringed from the noxious fumes. Sara quickly replaced the cork and picked up the green vial again, using it to illuminate the inside of her pack. She observed that there was a small empty container and a piece of thin metal, but nothing else.

 _No food_. Her mind reeled. Surely, with her mediocre materials she would have a poor chance at eating... unless there was some sort of underground pool or river. Her survival instincts kicked in-- _you're being played. That is where you are expected to go._

Having no way of telling how much time had elapsed, Sara dumped all the contents back into her pack... at least everything except for the silk wrapped around her head and the green glowing liquid that would help her navigate through the Mountain. Her feet carried her forward and the ground became a bit slick and sticky. Peering around, Sara saw that there were masses stuck to the far wall. Her heart skipped a beat as she neared the wall. When her eyes fell upon the sight, she stifled a scream.

 _"Oh my god..."_ Before her lay two small bodies, speared to the wall with arrows. The same kind of red fletchling stuck out of their forms, mockingly. Sara shuddered involuntarily and backed away from the grotesque sight.

Could it be that Nyssa had murdered these children?

The thought caused her to panic and she set off at a full run, no longer thinking defensively. The stench of the bodies faded slowly as she made her way down the tunnels. A faint dripping sound caught her attention after running for what seemed like forever. Her lungs heaving loudly, Sara strained to listen to where the sound was originating from. The droplets hit stone floor and the echo played among the tunnel walls. Quietly, Sara inched over to where the sound was coming from, trying to let her feet fall softly as to prevent drawing attention.

The dripping grew louder and the echoes seemed to envelope her. Soon, she stood inside a towering cavern with incredible rock formations clinging to the floor and ceiling. The sloping roof of the cavern must have been four stories high and droplets of water were sliding down from the stalactites and making their way to the floor, where large puddles lay. 

 _Water,_ Sara thought and reached into her pack for the empty container. She would need all the strength she could muster for the coming days. She crouched to the floor, filling the container. Her thoughts waxed dark. _Maybe I should just find a way to end it all..._ her mind spun in a melancholia. _I betrayed my sister, my family thinks I am dead, Oliver has to survive on his own now... if he is alive. I am so selfish and stupid. None of this would have happened if I hadn't left with him... I would be normal._

Wiping away tears, Sara smiled a bit at the thought of "normal". She had never been normal, and she had been reminded of it quite often growing up. Laurel was the normal one; her sister took the spotlight, shining as the prime example of the Lance family, both in beauty and poise. Sara had more room to be herself-- wild and fearless, stubborn and eclectic. Her teachers had praised her efforts in school as bright but scattered, as she had so many interests. That girl was a memory, but recalling how it all felt gave Sara a surge of energy in her present. 

She wanted nothing more than to see her family again, to maybe return to being that girl... that daughter. 

All she had to do was out-smart Nyssa. Ivo had taught Sara that sometimes the downfall of a great fighter was his hubris. He had shown how this could be attained through psychological manipulation and science. Brawn could only get you so far. But, if you understood how men thought, if you understood what chemicals could do to the body, perhaps you could out wit your opponent.

Sara wondered whether this applied to the female assassin on her trail. Could Nyssa's pride and self-assured attitude spell oversight? Sara stowed her water container and stood up. Her ears caught sound and her limbs froze to the spot. She clamped her hand over the vial of glowing liquid to extinguish the light in the cavern.  _Nyssa?_ Could it be that the hour was up and the assassin had caught onto Sara's trail already? If so, there was only a breath's hope... silence followed. Sara's knees began to lock and she felt a bit dizzy-- she had been holding her breath in anticipation of being attacked. 

Deeming it safe, Sara slowly unwound her fingers from the vial, letting the circle of light widen.

 _Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss_. Coiled brown snakes with black stripes across their bodies were encircling Sara's perimeter. 

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!" she screamed, mortified, and scrambled up the nearest rock face, her hands pulling the rest of her up as fast as she could go. Adrenaline was firing in her chest and she reached the top, looking down. She had left her bamboo staff on the ground. _Oh god..._ the snakes slithered all over the staff and coiled up against the base of the rock face, as if taunting her to dare and come down.

Flat on her stomach, her pack on her back, Sara breathed heavily... she had escaped certain death. These snakes exactly resembled the snake on the path... the one Nyssa had not hesitated to filet with an arrow. These snakes were sure to be poisonous.

Sara's eyes widened suddenly...

She had screamed. Now Nyssa knew where to find her. And she had no where to run to.

 

 

 

 

 


	13. Pursuit

Nyssa's onyx eyes opened as the sound of Sara's exasperation filled her ears. It reverberated throughout the mountain, out to the base of the Falls where Nyssa still sat.

Her mouth curled into a smile. _My my, that was simple_... she thought gleefully. Thoughts of her family fled and were replaced by an almost animal hunger for the kill she was promised. Every time she began to hunt a target, the same sensation would flood her body as her training took over. It felt glorious, like a curtain of metal was sweeping up and down along her limbs, rendering her impenetrable. She longed, deep in her bones, to see how clever Sara was, what lengths she would go to to stay alive... how much did she value her life? How much suffering would she endure to abide it?

Muttering the final meditation and signaling in the air with her precious dagger, Nyssa took a breath and swallowed her past. She stepped, swiftly, into the tunnel that lead to her quarry.

***

 Sara felt as if her heart was made of lead. She wasn't sure which was worse-- the vipers or Nyssa. _At least Nyssa could show mercy... then again, at least the vipers would make it quick._ Her gaze was cast on her bamboo rod down on the cavern floor. How could she retrieve it without angering the heap of poisonous snakes who were enjoying basking on top of it? Azure eyes alight, Sara gasped slightly under her breath. She thought of the noxious vial in her pack. What if she spilled some of the contents on the snakes? Surely, that would deter them and make them slither away! And then she could get to her staff in time for Nyssa to arrive in the cavern. At least then she would stand a chance at defending herself.

Uncorking the bottle, she managed to press one hand over her mouth and nose in order to prevent from gagging. Her eyes slowly watered as the fumes oozed out of the vial, greedily seeking air space. Pulling herself to the edge of the rock face, she turned the bottle over a bit, letting the liquid rain down on the snakes below. They hissed sharply as the fluid touched their bodies; wriggling and coiling in a mass, they slowly began to untangle and disperse, moving away from the rod. Though, the snakes didn't go as far as Sara had hoped. If anything, the liquid had just aggravated them further, making them more incited to attack.

Yet, squinting closely at the snakes, Sara saw that their skin burned where the droplets of liquid had made contact... the snakes wrapped themselves defensively and she realized that they _were in pain_. The liquid was a form of acid and had eaten through parts of their bodies.

Sara had an idea.

***

Nyssa walked through the tunnels, breathing in the frigid mountain air and focusing on her footfall. She was surprised how far into the depths Sara had gone.

The woman's scent, a mixture of sweet sweat and dried blood, permeated the air and helped Nyssa identify which tunnels were taken. Nyssa stopped as she saw what she had been hoping to avoid; surely, this sight had caused Sara to scream. It always toyed with Nyssa, interrupting her incredible focus and banishing her emotional clarity. Her eyes washed over the red of the fletchling and her gaze followed down the shaft of the arrow to where its deadly point held up the remains of a once young soul's body. She bowed, respectfully, to the corpses and continued down the tunnel. _Lingering would help nothing_ , she thought, flexing her jaw muscles.

One day, she would make Talia pay for what her sister had done to those children... and for what Talia did to her.

Taking a turn from the death site of the young pupils, Nyssa continued down into the tunnels, the dank smells of earthen liquid and chemicals wandering about her nostrils, acting as guideposts. She found it behooved her to trust her ears and nose more down here in the deep. Her eyes were too easily betrayed by movement and the slightest change in light. They were unreliable and uncontrollable. But, breath control was perfect. She timed her intake and exhalation of air with her feet lightly falling upon the stone floor.

It had been precisely two hours into the trial and Nyssa began wondering what Sara had encountered in the Mountain. Surely the woman would have a run in with the pit vipers. Those deadly creatures cherished the dark, damp environment the innards of the mountain provided. They were adept hunters, and, oftentimes, the League would name some of its most deadly assassins after those remarkable snakes. Af'aa **أفعى** had been one of her father's most trusted and skilled employs until he perished in Russia on a secret mission for the League, years ago. Nyssa recalled the man's scarred face. One of the gashes, probably the work of an enemy's blade, had carved a line from the middle of his forehead down to his right cheek. It captivated and repulsed Nyssa as a girl-- scars were necessary, but mostly for the emotional impetus they continuously provided their owners.

Despite his rough exterior and occupation, Af'aa had been like a kind uncle to Nyssa, taking her on walks along the plateau at dusk and pointing out to her all the spectacles their land had to offer. He was always so impassioned by the way the sun and shadows would trace over the mountains and claim segments of the land, seizing swaths of territory with arresting displays of color. She loved hearing him tell her of his adventures in foreign lands. Like Dawa, he spoke with a respectful gentleness that captivated her. No one in her immediate family ever spoke to each other that way. Everything had been tense, contorted, roiling with intention. Af'aa was as transient as the clouds when he spoke.

She would never hear that man's voice again.

Her thoughts returned to the scars. She had seen Sara's scars when the girl was pulled from the ocean. A bullet hole, deep bruising patterns, a few deep gashes from fights... the Pits had taken care of the visceral damage but the memories of what caused those injuries probably still lingered in Sara's mind... either tormenting her or forcing her to be stronger. 

Today, Nyssa would aspire to do the latter-- though her training begged her to do the former. There was such an intense push and pull when it came to Sara. Nyssa wanted to unleash all the fury she possessed on the woman, and, yet, she wanted to curl the blonde safely into her arms and hold her. It was an unnatural sensation, the firm desire to utterly destroy and completely cherish another being.

In more ways than one, Sara had to earn that privilege of being destroyed or cared for. If Nyssa's family found out that Sara survived the trials practically unscathed or that Nyssa was soft-hearted as the pursuer, Sara would be executed on the spot... and all of Nyssa's hard work in establishing herself in her father's good graces would be for naught.

It was time to truly test the woman's worth. If not for Sara's own sake with what was to come, then for Nyssa's... Subconsciously, a thought bubbled to the forefront and lit Nyssa's eyes with new fire. Nyssa acknowledged the thought's presence and entered a large cavern.

She had arrived.

 

 


	14. Trajectory

The acid was a dead giveaway.

Nyssa couldn't believe Sara could be so naive in thinking that using the liquid would be of any help. That is, until she saw the vipers. Their mangled scales reeked of the acid and they slithered haphazardly along the cavern floor. Sara had maimed some of them in a struggle, Nyssa observed, viewing the patterns of footprints along the dirty cavern floor. Dust trickled here and there and gave Nyssa pause... her gaze fell upon the bamboo staff, which lay abandoned at the base of a rock face. A few vipers still possessively clung to it. Where was Sara?

Nyssa's eyes narrowed and she knocked an arrow in her bow, her eyes peripherally searching for traces of movement. The small vial of Pit liquid glowed about fifty yards ahead of her position in the cavern, and a shaft of air signaled that there was an exit to the cavern on that side. Nyssa played images in her mind. She thought about what Sara must have done... she would have lit the vial to better see the cavern... then, the scream, as she saw the snakes. She dropped her staff as she scrambled to the back of the cavern, where she dropped the vial of light and tried to flee in the dark. All she would have had on her person then was the pack and its remaining elements, a canteen and a metal spike.

 _Not the best accoutrements_ , Nyssa mused to herself. Perhaps she gave Sara's survivor capabilities too much credence. This seemed anticlimactic; if anything, Sara would have about twelve hours at maximum to survive with her current items.

Without a constant light source, Nyssa was sure that the woman's wits would last even less time. She caught glimpse of a crimson liquid adorning the floor. Her mind calculated four hours of potential life. Sara was bleeding.

***

Sara saw Nyssa encircling the steps on the cavern floor and wished desperately that the assassin would think out loud. She wanted to know whether the patterns were legitimate enough to pull Nyssa's steps toward the trap. Her ruse was her sole hope at this point. Without a legitimate weapon and dwindling resources, Sara knew all too well that beyond this crazy attempt at attacking Nyssa, her chances at living another day were slim...

She would give this her all.

She had set up the trap in two steps-- the first, concocting a biological weapon out of chemical substances. There was barely any acid remaining, so Sara had torn one of her pant legs off, wrapped it around her hand, and used the metal spike to extract venom from the fangs of one of the dead vipers. The procedure disgusted her and she fought from retching twice, but she forced her hands to do the necessary work. It reminded her of her first days working with Ivo in his lab, toying with creatures and blood. So much blood and experimentation. She had built up minor defenses to the work, and they came in handy now as the viper's poison dripped into the acid vial, sizzling upon impact as it mixed with the remnants.

With the other end of the spike, she grit her teeth hard as she re-opened the cut on her leg. Breathing heavily, she trailed this blood from the rock face where the bamboo lay all the way to the exit of the cavern. Then, she ripped her other pant leg to dress and wrap the wound, pouring a small bit of water on the cut first, as to prevent infection. Once the blood had marked a fake trail, Sara dropped the vial of light toward the exit of the cavern and began the more difficult part of her plan.

She had first noticed the outcrops of rock along the cavern's ceiling while scrambling up the rock face to flee from the snakes. Laying on her back on top of the rock face confirmed to Sara that a person could climb up there with the right kind of tool... she had the spike, which could provide extra support for establishing footing along the climb. Her thoughts returned to the kind elderly woman in Nyssa's chamber. The woman had gone to great lengths to give Sara that black fabric, and demonstrated to her the strength and flexibility of the substance.

That's when Sara's mind flooded with hope.

A couple years ago, she had snuck out on a date with Oliver. He took her to see this incredible acrobatic troupe that was traveling from Central City to Starling to perform. She remembered being entranced by a routine performed by a man, a woman and a silken rope.

They had wrapped themselves in and out of the fabric with ease, pulling each other to mesmerizing ascension above the audience. Their bodies contorted together, gracefully maneuvering up in the air. Seconds later, the fabric unraveled and the partners dropped, causing the audience to gasp. Yet, when they stopped falling, the fabric wound around their limbs as a beautiful safeguard and they were posed above the stage, clutching each other in intricate positions. It was one of the most beautiful routines Sara had ever seen.

She _knew_ that fabric had looked familiar-- _aerial silk!_

Her plan heavily relied on her skill with the silk... after seeing the performance with Oliver, Sara had attended an Aerial Club meeting in college and quickly learned how to become comfortable with the fabric. She had always been lithe and athletic, so the climbing wasn't much of a problem for Sara. It was the falling that she disliked. As many other components of her life were out of her control, she had always felt that falling was something beyond the scope of management. But, her peers at the club and the teachers there made it look simple, graceful even. After going back to practice a few times, Sara finally understood how to climb up the rope, how to do a single-foot tie in and how to move her body in tandem with the contours of the fabric, weaving her feet in and out to create basic holds and patterns. Her muscle memory increasing, she finally advanced to learning a move called the Hangman.

She never thought her life would depend on her understanding of that move.

It had taken very little time, once she ascended the rock face, to unravel the fabric from around her head and bend the metal spike into a hook, which she wedged into the ceiling of the cavern. Carefully weaving the fabric through the loop of the hook, Sara tested its strength, making sure the hook itself was sturdy enough to support the suspended weight. It frightened her, looking down at the expanse of the cavern, thinking that all that stood between her and death was her body's form in the suspension. Sara gingerly placed the vial of venom in between her teeth; she began taking deep breaths in through her nose as she wound her feet around the fabric, the rest of her body following. She let go of part of the fabric and her torso shifted to an inverted position; she felt the adrenaline surge through her chest as the fabric caught and released with the small drop. She removed the vial from her teeth and waited, aloft in the cavern, for Nyssa to make her move.

***

Nyssa slinked along the bloody pathway through the cavern. She listened to the sounds of the cave-- the hollow noises the wind made, the snakes writhing along the ground. Something felt like it was missing... there was an almost eerie stillness at the back of the cavern. It disconcerted Nyssa. She scanned her surroundings; wherever her eyes went, her bow followed, threateningly.

The feeling sat at the nape of her neck. It felt as if there was a pocket in her surroundings, which usually translated to ambush. But Sara didn't have the resources or the necessary skills to ambush her, so she let that thought begin to sink to the back of her m-...

_SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!_

Nyssa's eyes brightened in surprise as the sound came at her from above. A blurred yellow light was flying directly at her, down from the top of the cavern and, "AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Nyssa howled in pain as something dripped onto her neck and shoulder, sizzling upon impact. Her hand trembled and she dropped her bow, clutching at her shoulder in agony. Eyes narrowing, she realized it was acid and something incredibly potent. She unsheathed her dagger, grimacing and enraged, and slashed at the figure above her. The yellow blur untangled and fell to the floor, a mixture of swirling darkness and light.

Nyssa took in the sight-- Sara's blonde hair cascaded over her face, her hands braced on the ground-- the woman's eyes were defiant and strong. Nyssa slashed, yelling, and hit Sara's arm, blood spraying on the ground. Furious and in pain, Nyssa shot out her left foot, knocking Sara prone.

She pinned the woman down, dagger at her throat, and growled menacingly, "You are _clever_ , attacking me from the air. But, it is over for you now, _Ta-er al Safer_... little yellow bird!"

Within the moment of delivering the strike, Nyssa's eyes fluttered wildly and her body ached. She stared into Sara's blue eyes, confused, questioning. A spasm of pain gripped her arm and she looked at her shoulder... a pool of blood and burns decorated her exposed skin. The acid had eaten its way through her clothing, and something else was diving into her bloodstream without hesitation or mercy...

***

Sara lay still, her mouth drawn in a line. "Venom, Nyssa," she said solemnly, and clutched at the assassin as Nyssa toppled to the ground.

***

Nyssa felt her body begin to go rigid; her limbs were so heavy. She had been told of the quick effects of Pit Viper venom, but had never experienced its grip firsthand. Her thoughts reeled and she clutched at Sara.

"Get... my..." she heaved, sweating and gripping Sara's arm.

Nyssa's pupils dilated and small flecks of amber invaded her irises.

" _Father_..." she stammered before her expression went slack and she felt her eyes slowly shut.

***

Sara didn't realize her breath was caught in her chest-- she quickly exhaled.

Her thoughts gone, she automatically dragged Nyssa's limp body onto the rock face and used one of the woman's arrows to cut a swath of the aerial silk. What water she had left, she poured unceremoniously on Nyssa's burn and wrapped it in the silk. Then, she grabbed the assassin's dagger and ran, as fast as her legs could carry her, out of the cavern, through the tunnels and back to the base of the waterfall. Once her eyes adjusted to the light of day, she tore up the mountain path, her lungs exasperated but functioning. She quickly limped through the rocky pass.

She reached the plains and felt like passing out, but knew that wasn't an option. Nyssa's life relied completely on Sara's swiftness. Sara saw, across the stretching plateau, the ominous yet majestic facade of the fortress of Nanda Parbat. She ran, screaming at the top of her lungs for help, until she reached the outer stone walls.

Sara didn't know how to get the guards to pay serious attention to her, so she fiercely hollered at them, her body burning. She felt sick and the wound on her arm throbbed. Her vision went in and out as the pain surged throughout her body.

"In the name of Ra's al Ghul, I require immediate help! **The Heir to the Demon is dying**!!!"

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who are interested, the literal translation of الطيور الصفراء (Al Ta-Er Al Sa-fer) is "the yellow bird." Canary is phonetically spelled out in Arabic: كناري
> 
> As you will continue to see in my adaptation of this story, Nyssa (later endearingly) now refers to Sara with this title of yellow bird, due to what happened in the mountain and the flurry of yellow light that flew down from the ceiling. The name Canary is an appellation that Sara will come to choose at some point in the future.


	15. The Yellow Bird

Nyssa floated in and out of consciousness for what seemed like days. She hazily remembered Sara's determined face, covered with sweat, as the woman turned and left her in the cavern. What came after was a blur. She had been there for hours-- her body immovable on the stone floor.

Her eyes fluttered open once in a while in some feeble attempt to instinctively protect her life. It didn't seem to matter much now... she fully recognized that fighting the venom seeping into her veins was futile and naive, at best. Making her blood pump faster would just disperse the toxins deeper into her blood stream, toward her vital organs. She needed to remain as calm and collected as possible... keenly aware of her body's deteriorating conditions.

Laughter meandered through the corridors of her mind and she saw an image of a young girl with dark hair playing in a field with an older man-- her father. The man smiled and lifted the young girl into his arms, wrapping her into a warm embrace. Tears pooled at Nyssa's eyelids. She _would_ think of her father before Death delivered its everlasting sentence. She _would_ recall some of her fondest memories, treasuring them as her lips and fingers turned slowly to ice and lost feeling.

Her eyes fluttered again...

They had carried her under the gate, a group of four men... they wore ceremonial robes, which frightened Nyssa even in her stupor. Did they too believe she was going to die? Was it her time?

Voices echoed in a corridor. Her eyes were closed from exhaustion, from the sheer desire to fight the growing tremors.

One voice was unmistakeable in its timbre. Her father was issuing orders to his men... "Leave her with me," he commanded, his voice rigid.

...a door closed and Nyssa felt rough fingertips brushing her soaked hair away from her face. Her father's touch was foreign, almost inexplicable; yet, she cherished the gesture. He only touched his daughters when he was completely worried about their well-being. Usually, a calculated gaze and lack of proximity declared his general fondness for her and Talia.

Ra's al Ghul must have been mortified at what happened to Nyssa for him to be this close to her, breaching the layers of formality that usually surrounded their interactions. The door opened again and Ra's barked, "We need the finest healers and a stretcher to take her to my personal Pit."

"Yes, lord," the voice spoke reverently and was gone as quickly as it had arrived.

Nyssa shook, moaning softly. Her thoughts were so scattered and obscured. Like fireflies, she wished to catch them all... to study their iridescence and hold them captive until she was done with them. Then, they could be released. _Fireflies... such beautiful inner light. They carry it for everyone to see..._ _warm, yellow light._

" _Habibti_ , who did this to you?" her father's voice encroached on her reverie. It resonated with an unspeakable ire.

Nyssa pondered. _Someone had done this to her? Surely, that was a mistake..._ the voice in her head echoed and reasoned. Her limbs shook again and her head banged softly against... wherever she was.

" _Ta-er al Sa-Fer_ , father," she heard her voice say, hushed, "the yellow bird."

She sputtered a damaged laugh and smiled, before losing consciousness... "She took flight."

***

Sara was escorted down a large hallway with dim lighting. It seemed that they were in the heart of the fortress-- there were so many twists and turns along the paths inside the walls that she felt like she was being led through a labyrinth. Wherever they were going, its location wasn't meant to be easily found. And that fact frightened her.

A large door with a brass knocker with the head of a gargoyle loomed in front of them. The hooded man accompanying Sara knocked three times, one short knock followed by two long ones. The door swung open. The man shoved Sara inside the door and promptly exited, locking her in from the outside hallway. She clutched the doorknob, and pulled, trying to get it to open.

"Please indulge me, Sara Lance," the voice stated from across the room. Her body recognized the mellifluous rise and fall of the man's tone and she shuddered. "Come join me for a glass of my finest scotch," Ra's al Ghul entreated.

Sara turned to see the man silhouetted against a crackling fire. He leaned with one arm against the mantlepiece above the fireplace, gripping two shot glasses in his hand. They were full of amber liquid. Sara knew better than to trust anything in this place, let alone the Demon's Head himself casually offering her a drink after she... _had potentially killed his oldest daughter_... Her eyes widened in fear.

"Come sit. Now," Ra's commanded and Sara made her legs move closer and closer to that evil man. He held out a glass of scotch to Sara, his face expressionless; once she took it out of his fingertips, he sat down in a large, crimson armchair several feet from the fire. He motioned for her to sit opposite him.

Once seated, Ra's raised his glass and declared, "To our health!" Sara's heart hammered in her chest. This surely wasn't happening. Was he celebrating Nyssa's death? She saluted him, copying his motion exactly, and downed the contents without further thought. The alcohol smoothly burned on its way down her throat, and warmed her insides. It was pure scotch-- there was nothing deadly about it. _Perhaps he is killing me with kindness,_ she thought.

"Now, Sara, I must congratulate you on being the first person in League history to pass the initial Trial so quickly. Simply incredible." Sara peered into the shaded eyes of the monster seated before her. He was massaging his brown beard, which she noticed was flecked with silver, and staring into her eyes. Not her eyes-- peering into her soul, testing her core.

She stammered a response. "Thank you..."

"I am always quite elated when we have a potential initiate, Sara," Ra's began again.

Every time he said her name aloud, she felt as if part of her died a little, melding into the heavy atmosphere of the room. "Every person who passes the first trial comes here." He elegantly swept to his feet and motioned around the room. "This is my personal study and has been in my care now for close to a century." Her mouth twitched and Ra's smiled devilishly. _A century? How was that possible?_

"You see, Miss Lance, I am a very talented man. I pride myself on my perseverance and ingenuity." He strode over to a shelf of books, letting his fingertips brush the age-old dust off their spines as he passed. She followed his motion around the study as he spoke. "When I heard of what transpired in the Mountain, I was quite impressed with your ingenuity as well. You are quite young and, yet, very resourceful." He eyed her peripherally as he stalked about the room.

Pausing by an extensive collection of ancient weapons, Ra's turned to fully face Sara, his green eyes glinting in half light. The fire crackled approvingly, hissing its respect. Ra's wrapped one of his hands around an ornate spear and gazed at it lovingly.

"I once earned this weapon in battle, having turned the owner to ash. The men who followed me came to know me as the Head of the Demon for a variety of creative reasons... they witnessed me fight with blood lust, like a man "possessed by devils". This spear was my instrument of destruction, my own form of ingenuity in war. No one expects to be fought with something so antiquated... not in our age of impersonality in delivering death. Certainly not with the advent of guns and machinated killing."

Sara sat perfectly still, letting the words wash over her.

"I give you this anecdote for two reasons. The first, to let you know how much I prize my belongings. And the second, to give you a glimpse of what I am capable of..." his voice turned to lead.

"My daughter, Nyssa, came to me an hour ago near Death's door." Sara felt a sizable lump take hold of her windpipe. "She has never been bested before in such a manner, which is curious to me..." he paused, his fingertips idling touching the spear's point.

"Anyway, I believe that one as clever as you must understand that when I tell you how much I prize my belongings, you can only imagine how much _more_ I cherish my children-- my daughters."

He chanced a smile at Sara, who sat mortified and pale in the chair next to the fire. "You should know, Miss Lance, that kind of love. Your father after all is a cop, is he not?"

Involuntarily, she grimaced and spoke, "How do you know that?"

He stroked his beard with his free hand and laughed softly. "Please, Sara, don't feign ignorance with me. You have figured out already that my organization is insurmountable when it comes to gathering intelligence about others we... take interest in."

Sara understood suddenly. "DO NOT HURT THEM!" she pleaded, shouting. "You can torture me, kill me slowly-- _I don't care_ , but please, do not hurt my family!!!"

A half smile curved upon Ra's's lips.

"See, Sara?" he played. "THIS IS WHAT FAMILY MEANS. This level of pain and suffering, joy and celebration. You are an utter fool, thinking that I will let my daughter fade from me, from this world. But, what you have done to her is unacceptable to me and I will teach you to relish sheer pain for your decisions!" He murderously thundered at her. Then, his tone softened again.

"Yet," he sneered, "my daughter respected you even after you had harmed her. She called you a name... Ta-er al Sa-fer, the yellow bird. I am not a very forgiving man, Miss Lance. I do not relinquish those whom I have marked for payment, especially once they have a debt to serve. You, young bird, are indebted to the kindness of my daughter, Nyssa. For without her... _sentiment_... the plateau would be your grave, and your father would never have the satisfaction of finding who was responsible and bringing them to justice. And, I doubt he is much of a forgiving man either."

Sara wiped a tear from her cheek and sat back down.

"Congratulations on your acceptance to our training program, Sara Lance." She looked up at him, searchingly, completely overwhelmed that her life was being spared. Something tore through her shirt and pierced her flesh, tearing the breath from her lungs and purging a scream from her throat. She doubled over, falling to her knees and clutching at her abdomen.

The shaft of the spear Ra's had lovingly been touching moments ago now emerged from her side. Blood seeped onto the carpet and Sara groaned from the agony. The fire crackled, almost as if it was joyously laughing. She looked up at Ra's, who leered down at her from above.

"The pain of the potential or actual loss of a loved one tears you apart. Now, you have experienced what you delivered to me today. You have my sincere welcome, Ta-er al Sa-fer." He took another swig of scotch and sat down by the fire, motioning to someone at the door with his hand.

Sara blacked out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 2, Episode 14: "Time of Death"  
> Diggle, Oliver and Sara are comparing their battle wounds and scars. Sara mentions that she is "mostly swords and a spear." Now you know where the spear wound came from (according to my interpretation).


	16. The Ward

Nyssa awoke, somewhat groggily, to the sounds of strings and brass. The dusty old record player her father loved had been started and the symphonic bliss surrounded Nyssa. She was absolutely sure it was about five minutes into Tchaikovsky's _1812 Overture_. How those strings danced together, cavorting rhythmically. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes to take in the music, the events of the past few days trickling away in its presence.

"Good morning, sis," Talia strode in to Nyssa's bedroom, armed with a large brass pot and two ceramic cups. Nyssa sat up suddenly, on the defensive. Her sister's voice had that immediate effect on her.

"You sure are spry today!" Talia played, pouring them both what smelled like a strong jasmine tea. Nyssa stared at her sister. "Why are you here, Talia?" It wasn't the most friendly way to greet family, but her younger sister really didn't deserve Nyssa's definition of friendly.

Talia looked up at Nyssa, her dark brown eyes smiling at the corners. "I am just glad that you are alive... you know, not an invalid pumped with viper venom." She reached out to hand the teacup to Nyssa. Nyssa sat still in the bed, uncomfortable and slightly flushed.

"I heard that city girl, the one you saved from the ocean, had her way with you in the Mountain. I guess some things never change," Talia flippantly remarked, setting the teapot and Nyssa's cup down on the table.

Nyssa bristled with anger. "So, you came here to tell me how weak I am, then? How trite."

Talia's curled, long brown hair shook as she giggled. "No, dear sister, I came to let you know that father and I are departing in the morning for a _job_. How disappointed father was when you turned up at Nanda Parbat all full of poison and not making any sense... you were supposed to be accompanying him on this business trip, not me."

Nyssa felt shame emerge as tension in her shoulders; she stared at Talia, who was clearly not done with her bravado.

"I was sorry to hear that I was your swift replacement. But, you know, I really need to thank that girl... Sara, sometime, for creating this wonderful opportunity for me!" Talia finished her tea and stood, her black dress flowing behind her. She turned to leave, and then re-thought it, throwing in another dig at her sister as Nyssa sat propped up, silently.

"Father spared her life for some ridiculous reason. He fully expects her to be trained and ready for deployment in the field when we return from our hunt. We're going after the _wizard_ , sis." Her whole face was lit with dark purpose and Nyssa glared. She felt enraged-- working with her father to find that traitorous defector, Merlyn, had been her prize for her continuously excellent service to the League. And now, Talia had taken that from her like the slimy opportunist she had always been.

The door shut and Nyssa pounded her fists on the silk sheets. She stared out the window. Her body felt lithe and ready to move. She recalled being suspended in her father's Lazarus Pit, having those sensations of remedial wholeness usher in through her body as the toxins and lethargy seeped out into the pool. An equivalent exchange of energy. She was beginning to figure out how to leverage the Pits to heal a person more than once... That information would be hers only to keep.

She sighed, closing her eyes, pushing the anger down her throat and channeling it into her stomach. Talia had nothing better to do with her pathetic life than to goad her sister. Nyssa wouldn't take it-- she let her energy focus, collecting her drive.

Her thoughts turned to training Sara. That was her prime directive now, and she had sworn a blood oath to becoming the girl's teacher at the initial Trial. It seemed so strange that this was playing out. Nyssa had never been beaten by someone before, not since Talia had tricked her years ago... in a cruel fashion. Sara presented a challenge, in so many ways, to Nyssa.

Part of her fought that knowledge and part of her eagerly welcomed it. So much of her routine and life had been so banal, crude even. Being in Sara's presence felt uncanny, yet completely natural. And how she had surprised Nyssa in the cavern... it astounded Nyssa to think of the intricacy of the plan. She was curious as to where Sara had procured the aerial silk. Re-playing the scene in her mind again and again, Nyssa alighted on Sara's fall. It had looked like the woman was flying down toward her, the darkness of the fabric unraveling so fast and Sara's blonde hair generating a halo of light. The vision was powerful and ached in Nyssa's mind.

Nyssa had a deep understanding of the baseline she had to work with for training Sara. _What incredible potential_ , she thought. Part of her recognized that desire existed along with that acknowledgment of Sara's potential.

Having being brought to the brink of death and back by the woman had sparked something in Nyssa-- a fire sat in her bones and slowly consumed her, licking at her muscles and teasing her skin.

It was time to go collect her pupil. 

 


	17. Starting Point

Sara awoke to Dawa's concerned face staring down at her. The woman and her cohort of elderly healers were sponge-bathing portions of Sara's clammy body. Something rancid filled Sara's nostrils, causing her to violently cough.

"AGH!!!!" she gasped. Her side was burning up, wild with pain. She struggled to sit up; she wanted to violently clutch at her side. "It hurts! Oh my god..." Sara moaned, searing pain radiating through her torso.

Dawa's hand gently pushed Sara back to the bed, until she lay fully horizontal on the sheets. She spoke in a foreign tongue to the healers, a one-way communication channel that issued swift instructions. Robed women trotted quickly about the room carrying cloths, buckets of steaming and cold water, bandages, teapots, smoking clumps of herbs... it would have been comical if not for the intensity of the pain. Sara glimpsed the open wound underneath her right ribs, where Ra's al Ghul had impaled her with a spear. _That man is fucking crazy. This whole place is crazy!_ Her mind reeled with feverish staccato, searching for some peace.

She found it through Dawa's gesturing and rapt attention to her needs. The elderly healer sat next to the bed and placed cool cloths on Sara's forehead. The moisture soothed the incessant burning. The woman hummed softly as she worked, which gave Sara the chance to let go of controlling her body-- she began to focus on her breathing, counting in for two and out for two. The rhythm helped ease her mind into a more passive state. Flecks of subconscious negative self-talk gripped at the edges of her mind, but she moved it away from her consciousness with every exhalation.

That is, until she heard _her_ voice. Nyssa.

Sara was already soaked with sweat, but hearing the stern purrs of Ra's al Ghul's daughter-- alive and well-- threw Sara into shock. Her limbs convulsed on the table and she grimaced, biting inside her cheek as her muscles flailed. _I am going to die,_ she thought. _Nyssa_ _is going to kill me here._ Her wild blue eyes searched for the assassin, for a weapon, for some measure of hope.

Instead, she met the cold steel of Nyssa's gaze. Except, the woman's eyes were not distant and frigid. They looked concerned. Dawa's hand landed atop Sara's forehead again and forcibly moved her back to the bed, gesturing to Nyssa. It felt like Dawa was explaining, with her hands, all the damage that Sara had incurred because Nyssa soon nodded and moved to a dresser. Sara sweat out beads of fear watching the predatory woman move about the room. Nyssa withdrew an item from the drawer, a bottle. She uncorked it and brought it over to Sara, whose legs jerked to try and free her from the healers' immobilization.

Nyssa bent over Sara and placed the bottle under Sara's nose. She breathed in and was surprised to inhale a tangy, sweet scent. The oil wafted around Sara and made her feel light and heavy at the same time. She closed her eyes when the smell of lavender and lemon floated in, followed by an aroma of soft citrus. The smell reminded Sara of her mom, who used to read old manuscripts at the kitchen table while a slow burning citrus candle sat vigil as her companion.

Sara looked up at Nyssa. This is the closest they had physically been since the attack in the cavern, and Sara's eyes, full of remorse and confusion, searched Nyssa's.

Nyssa seemed to intercept Sara's thoughts through her gaze. "Focus on healing yourself," she said, hushed. "We will have plenty of time to discuss recompense for what happened in the mountain. I am not here to threaten your life or amplify your pain."

For the first time, Sara saw something different in Nyssa. The woman seemed less guarded; perhaps it was the calming effect of the aromatherapy oils and the cool cloths, beginning to soothe Sara's aching pain... Nevertheless, Sara felt as if she now glimpsed Nyssa the woman instead of Nyssa the trained killer, daughter of Ra's al Ghul. Conceiving of her as two distinct persons was strange but Sara had nothing else to compare the experience with-- Nyssa's unexpected kindness clouded her initially stark perception of the woman.

Sara felt safe now, wherever she was, with Nyssa and the healers. That would suffice.

Nyssa retreated from Sara and walked back over to the dresser, placing the bottle back in the drawer and gingerly removing articles of clothing. The healers helped Nyssa undress. Sara noticed that Nyssa silently flinched here and there as fingertips eased pieces of her outfit off tender skin. The raven haired woman never voiced that she had any ounce of discomfort, never complaining with the steady movements, but Sara could sense that Nyssa experienced a good deal of pain.

Nyssa was half nude, her bare back facing Sara. Sara could see the sensuous curves of the woman's body, laced with muscle underneath her skin. Nyssa felt Sara's eyes on her and turned to face her, her onyx eyes meeting Sara's without any shame at her nakedness.

Sara caught sight of Nyssa's front... her gorgeous skin and breasts, her crafted abdominal muscles. She averted her gaze, her face feeling feverish again. She eagerly tapped Dawa's arm for attention, motioning that she wanted another cool washcloth placed on her forehead. The healer obliged and clicked disapprovingly at Nyssa, who was now fully naked. Nyssa's mouth curved into a half smile and she nodded respectfully to Dawa.

Sara, with her eyes still closed, spoke, "I'm sorry, Nyssa." She felt like the meager apology wasn't nearly enough for almost killing the woman.

Sensing Nyssa's powerful gaze, Sara opened her eyes again. "You did no harm, Sara Lance. It was my folly that led to this outcome." She paused, looking Sara up and down. "Swallow your guilt, _Ta-er al Sa-fer_. You will need to remember the skills you employed in a day's time, when your training pushes you to the brink once more." Sara took in the full sight of Nyssa, regally poised there in front of her, in naught but her skin. How was it that that woman was clothed with confidence and Sara felt so exposed?

Nyssa turned to walk to the bathroom, where a welcoming steam rose from the tub that Sara had bathed in before the mountain. Sara saw that Nyssa's acid burns were completely gone... her eyes opened wide. _How could Nyssa be in pain if she has been healed? How was she healed?_

Sara moved the washcloth over her face, which now burned with the fire of recognition. She remembered the Pits... the memory had been so obscured, untouchable for about a week now... but there it was, a conflagration in Sara's mind. She covered her face with both hands, ignoring the pain in her abdomen as her muscles moved overhead. Something had taken over her in the pools... something powerful had changed her, had caused her to _kiss_ Nyssa. The memory ached in her lips and she motioned for water.

She heard the woman's order from the room over. "Focus your mind on recuperation. You have one day before our starting point."

The water from the bath splashed and Nyssa sank in, silent and calm. Sara, however, lay on the bed, her senses fully awakened. The pleasure of distant memory and the pain of her current condition carried her world to separate places. Her mind hung in the balance and she closed her eyes, letting the healers continue their handiwork of stitching her wounds.

There was too much to sift through right now and all she wanted to do was fly away from it all. She needed to be as present as possible to survive her next step. Heaving intermittent sighs and grimacing from hurt, Sara breathed in the lavender and citrus again.

She let her focus wander off to the comforting arms of her mother's memory, until finally she fell asleep.

***

 


	18. Nightmares

"Tell it again, mom! I love that story!" The young girl sidled up to her mother in the bed, holding out the story book so her mom had no choice but to take it from her daughter's outstretched arms.

"Ok, sweetie," her mother said, a kind smile painted on her lips. "But after this, it's lights out. We have a fun day ahead of us and you need your rest!" The little girl nodded and pulled her covers up to her nose, her blue eyes peering above the covers. She anxiously awaited the beginning of the tale.

Her older sister, Laurel, appeared at the door dressed in pajamas. "Mom," she asked, "may I join you and Sara?" Their mother nodded, motioning for her eldest to hop in the bed. Instead, Laurel sat on the floor by the table lamp so she could see all of the words in the dim lighting. She loved following along with the text. Sara, on the other hand, closed her eyes and soaked the story in, imagining herself as the main character adventuring off in a distant land. She couldn't really care about the word order or style of the writing so long as her imagination could soar as she heard the words.

Dinah cleared her throat and held the book aloft, so the tips of the pages were splashed with lamp light. She began to read to her girls.

" _Once upon a time, there was a woman with an extraordinary gift. The village where she lived was blessed with her kindness, as the woman would come at night and protect their homes from the wolves that surrounded the village. Somehow, this woman was able to calm the attacking wolves and generate a pact with them. 'Spare this village and your hunts will be bountiful,' the woman declared to the pack leader one moonlit night. The wolf bowed his head and returned to the forest. The next day, the men and women of the village held a council meeting, inviting the woman to sit amongst them._

_'We are tired of living in fear of attack!' one man exclaimed. Others cheered him on. 'I propose that the woman trick the wolves into coming into the village, so we can ambush them and be rid of the pests for good!' The woman was terrified by the proposal and disagreed with the course of action. But, the townspeople put the decision to a vote and the plan received the majority of favor. The woman swallowed her fear and hoped that the town was just in its actions. There had never been a war on their soils before, and the woman feared that the wolves would out-smart the towns folk. They were beautiful creatures, yet cunning._

_That evening, the woman offered prayers to her goddess, beseeching the deity to intervene on behalf of the village's mistake. 'Please hear me,' she entreated. 'These people are afraid and fear does the worst to those it touches... please offer them another way.'_

_She went to bed, hoping her offerings reached the ears of the beloved goddess._

_The next day seemed as normal as any other. The children played gaily in the streets, laughter abounding, and the men and women worked their respective jobs. Some manned store fronts, some worked in the fields, some crafted. It was a sunny day filled with hope and bustle. The woman began to feel as if the goddess had listened to her prayer. When the sun began to retreat to the horizon and evening descended, the woman took her usual post at the entrance of the village. She waited for the wolves to arrive..."_

Dinah stopped reading and Sara's eyes fluttered open. "Mom, is it bed time already? I swear I'm not sleepy!" She looked up.

There was a man holding a scimitar to her mother's throat, blocking her mother's vocal chords. Sara's eyes widened and she shouted, "MOM!" She saw that Laurel lay too still on the floor... a slit carved through her chest and blood pooled on the carpet. Sara shouted and pulled the covers over her head. Surely, this was a dream.  _It's a dream. It's a dream..._ she muttered again and again. 

The covers were torn away, strewn onto the floor and the man with bright green eyes stared at the terrified young girl. "Say goodnight, _Ta-er al Sa-fer_! Say goodbye to everyone you love!" He laughed maniacally at the horror reflected in the girl's face as he drew the sword across Dinah's throat.

***

"MOMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!!! **NOOOOOOOO!!!** "

Sara yelled in her sleep, over and over again, jerking the sheets of the cot back and forth in terror. The sounds of the blonde's screams woke Nyssa up from a sound sleep. She clutched under her pillow for her dagger and drew it with incredible speed, bolting upright. Scanning the room, she realized there was no threat. Sara was across the room, wrestling with nightmares on the healing cot Dawa had set up for her. Nyssa got off her bed, her bare feet traipsing across the floor. She quietly retrieved a dry washcloth from the bathroom and wet it in the sink, wringing it out slowly. She kept hearing Sara mumble about her mother, her sister... whatever was happening in the woman's dream was causing her fever to spike badly.

Nyssa knelt by the cot and dabbed at the stitched spear wound, cleaning some of fresh blood away from the site. Sara still tossed about, preventing Nyssa from keeping her hands steady as she worked around the wound.

"This won't do," she muttered and placed her right hand on the blonde's sweaty forehead. Sara breathed heavily in her fitful sleep and Nyssa cautiously stroked Sara's hair, moving the locks away from her stressed scalp-- the motion proved to relax her. Sara's creased brow softened and she muttered in her sleep.

"I tried, mom," she groaned, tears and sweat staining the sleeping woman's face. "I tried to stop him from killing you. I tried..." She repeated this about ten times as Nyssa sat there, bedside, until finally the words died away and Sara lay peacefully again. Nyssa watched the woman for a few minutes, her eyes taking in the depth of the wound her father had delivered. _It wasn't mercy that kept Sara alive,_ Nyssa thought. _Father isn't the forgiving sort. I wonder what stayed his hand..._ her eyebrows drew together as she watched Sara breathe slowly, her chest rising and falling. The nightmares had fully dissipated and her fever was breaking. Good.

Nyssa withdrew from the cot and went back to the bathroom, washing the bloody cloth out in cool water. She placed in on the counter and looked hard at herself in the mirror. Her father had always told her that she looked like her mother. Her features were exotic, and she imagined how beautiful her Russian mother had been with dark tresses and porcelain features.

Sara's frenzied mutterings about her mother deeply saddened Nyssa. Her own mother had been murdered when she was very young. She had been solely raised by her father, whose constancy in parenting was one of his best traits. They had a few close knit years together. Then Talia came to Nanda Parbat, and they came to call each other sisters even though they only shared half their blood line... Nyssa had despised sharing her only parent for the first couple of years.

She pulled back a strand of her hair behind her ear; she noticed that her jaw was clenched and that darkening rings wound their way under her eyes. She looked completely exhausted. _What I would give to have a mother,_ she thought and walked back to her bed. Sara was totally still, slumbering. Nyssa slid under the covers and stared at the ceiling for a long while, recalling Sara's screams.

Whatever internal pain Sara was experiencing, Nyssa knew it had to be let go of some way or another. There was no way that Sara could undergo the rigors of training with physical and psychological injuries. One had to heal faster than the other. _Hopefully the latter_ , she thought. She knew better though. Nyssa had barely known her own mother and had mourned her loss for years, often in solitude. Sara's world was being ripped open and away from her, inch by inch, and she needed to figure out a way to piece it back together or re-forge the very essence of who she was.

Time would tell which route the woman would take, and by what circumstances.

 

 


	19. Healing

"Good morning."

The casual salutation felt foreign given the circumstances. Nyssa walked around her bed chamber, toting a bunch of washcloths and a pot of steaming tea. Sara slowly shifted her weight in the cot and unstuck herself from the sheets.

"Gross," she muttered under her breath.

"You sweat quite a lot last night," Nyssa explained offhandedly, placing two tea cups on the small table near the cot. She sat down, crossing one sculpted leg over the other, and poured the tea. It reeked, full-bodied and pungent.

"Are you trying to kill me again? Because I'd rather die quickly than drink whatever..." Sara motioned to the cup, "...that is."

Nyssa actually laughed. It caught Sara off-guard and she gazed at the woman who was reclining in the chair by the window and sipping the foul smelling hot liquid.

"Oh please," Nyssa stated, "it stinks to high heaven, but this tea is purely wondrous. The Chinese cross the mountains to deliver it each month. It has incredible medicinal properties-- they actually refer to it as 'Jiaogulan' though its scientific name is _Gynostemma Pentaphylum_..." Nyssa caught Sara's blank stare. Sara still wasn't convinced, and she was too groggy to care enough to process the fancy Latin names for the disgusting herbs.

"Sounds great," Sara said sarcastically and grabbed the cup, pressing the rim to her lips. The liquid pooled in her mouth and she gagged, spitting it out and then groaning as her spear wound fluttered with pain.

"IT TASTES LIKE FISH FOOD!" she cried.

Nyssa fought off laughing again and instead cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, that _fish food_ will fully recover you in three days time if you manage to drink two cups a day. Hardly a large price to pay for greater than satisfactory physical health... The emperors of old China, during the Qin Dynasty, didn't complain while imbibing themselves with it daily. Jiaogulan, the miracle tea, the tea of longevity and royalty." She raised her cup and inspected the liquid, her face rapt with the fascination of a curious child observing a ladybug..

Sara's eye twitched and she seized the cup again. "Thanks for the history lesson."

"Of course," Nyssa replied sardonically. "My fish food tea and I aim to both please and educate-- we're great multitaskers."

Sara snorted a little of the tea back into the cup and gripped her side. Nyssa had just cracked a joke... about ancient tea.

Surely she was still sleeping...

"What?" Nyssa responded brusquely. "Did you expect my sense of humor to be vacant solely because of my profession? I take offense... sometimes the most dire situations demand a touch of humor."

"Or a great deal of skill," Sara tossed in. "Laughing something off can only get you so far. Then, you need to act."

The atmosphere shifted, a palpable transformation in the room. The two women sat silently for a moment, both clasping their steaming tea cups. Nyssa gazed to the window as the sun lit the mountain range outside. Her prayer wheel meandered around in circles, playing with the wind.

"Well, there is a difference between being jaded and experiencing reality for what it truly is," Nyssa said, still staring outside. "Don't be foolish enough to resort to cynicism and embitterment as your defense. You'll be dead in two weeks."

"How do you do that?" Sara asked.

Nyssa turned to face her. "Do what?"

"Go from offering me medicinal tea to telling me I am probably going to die if I don't do something." Sara felt the heat rise in her chest, but she knew she was too weak to do anything about it due to her injuries and Nyssa's expertise with combat. Instead, she sat as erect as she could, poised on the edge of the cot, her feet planted on the floor.

Nyssa surveyed her. "Why don't you tell me about the nightmares, Sara?"

"What?" Sara felt a hollow space in her gut. She searched her mind, remembering the vivid images of gore as Ra's al Ghul massacred her family in her dream. "Don't deflect my question, Nyssa," she threatened resolutely.

Nyssa shook her head. "I'm not."

Sara took a sip of the tea; she was beginning to grow accustomed to it, though it still tasted awful. She just focused on the warmth and motion instead of the taste.

"Yes, you are. You just turned my question back on me."

Nyssa uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to pour herself another cup of tea.

"I switch it on and off because that is the world in which I live. A life rife with violence, death, suffering, doing what is necessary to continue living... It's not credence so much as stark truth. If you want to live, you follow orders. If not, you die. There are no shades of grey, no wavering in loyalty or honor in the League."

Sara felt vacant. Nyssa was just being as frank as possible about her circumstances, and consequently, Sara's new terms for living.

"There is little shame in being broken, Sara."

The words seemed to come from thin air, a striking intuition that stripped Sara to her core. She _did_ feel broken, confused, utterly lost. She had practically been resurrected by some miracle water after undergoing hell on the _Amazo_ , on Lian Yu, and for what? To hold herself together, just barely, by the thought of her family? Every day she spent here, the more she felt like she was fading from the life she once knew.

Sara placed the cup of tea on the table and started to stand up. She grimaced aloud as her weight was a bit too much to bear on her feet. Her muscles ached and she began to slump downwards. Nyssa caught her fall, wrapping Sara's arm around her shoulder.

Nyssa helped lower Sara back to the cot and shoved the tea cup into her hand. "Drink," she commanded and went to get a wash cloth.

Returning with a warm cloth, Nyssa spoke again, her onyx eyes piercing Sara's. "You might not have envisioned being here, facing whatever it is that you carry. But you are and you have a choice as to how to deal with your tribulations. Our choices define us... especially in the moments we wish we didn't have to make them."

Her eyes blazed passionately. Sara could tell Nyssa was speaking from direct experience. "That's why I asked you about your dreams. Your fears are crippling you. You're more capable than that." Nyssa paused. "I've seen what you can do."

Sara looked down at her tea cup and pondered Nyssa's words. She downed the entire thing.

"I'd like some more," she stated to Nyssa. The assassin smiled and obliged, pouring another cup.

"I thought you would."

A knock came at the door. 

"Yes?" Nyssa called and the door swung open. A tall man with a pencil thin mustache stood at the door, clad in black from head to toe. A samurai style blade was strapped to his back and he didn't look happy as an errand boy.

"Mistress, a message from your father. He and Talia just left for their..." his eyes roved over to Sara, who was intently listening to the man's words. "...their business trip..." he finished, handing Nyssa a manilla envelope and bowing before departing.

"Thank you," she muttered and let the door shut behind him.

Sara watched Nyssa's nimble fingers open the envelope; she removed the contents, her brow furrowing more as she read. Finally, she placed the letter in her drawer and motioned to Sara.

"My father and Talia have left for a place called Starling City. Have you heard of it?"

Sara's heart throbbed in her chest at the sudden mention of home. She hadn't heard the name Starling in almost a year and felt like it was part of a forgotten dream. She fought to keep her composure and looked at Nyssa. "No, where is it?"

"Somewhere in the Americas, along the Northeastern seaboard," Nyssa replied, sounding bored. "They are hunting a specific target there, a man."

"Pretty common assassin stuff it seems," Sara feigned disinterest but her mind was racing. Ra's al Ghul had known that her father was a cop in Starling City. Was this some perverted vendetta of his, to go hunt Sara's family for sport for what she did to Nyssa?

What if Oliver had somehow made it home and Ra's was going after him... what if the _mirakuru_ was with Oliver? Then Ra's would stop at nothing to slaughter the Queen family to recover the precious drug. He had already proven that he was hell bent on finding it. That was Nyssa's purpose for being in the South China Sea, close to Lian Yu before rescuing Sara from the wreck.

Nyssa was eying Sara, watching the blonde's gears turn but not sure what was going through her head. Sara caught Nyssa's stare and pretended that her wound was bothering her to distract Nyssa from asking her about why she was so clammy.

"Nyssa?" Sara asked pitifully, "could I have some more fish food?"

"Don't tell me that you've grown to like the stuff now," Nyssa playfully retorted.

"It's my favorite, didn't you know? I hear that stuffy old royal Chinese dudes drank it to seem sophisticated." Sara grinned as wide as she could, inside still quite anxious.

Nyssa scoffed, "Well, you seem to be recovering your spirits quite quickly. Perhaps we should start your training sooner than I expected."

"Yes!" Sara said firmly, her thoughts bent on her family. "Yes, I want to start right away."

Nyssa masked whatever emotions she was feeling and eyed Sara curiously again. "You _wish_ to begin?"

Sara nodded confidently from the cot.

"Yes, I want to learn. I am ready."

Nyssa wryly smiled. "You are quite mysterious, _Ta-er Al Sa-fer_. Rest now. We begin at dawn." She swept past Sara and left the bed chamber. Sara heard her footsteps echo down the stone hall.

Laying back on the cot, Sara clutched her head with her hands and gave the bed one fierce kick, followed by a yelp of pain. _Ra's al Ghul was heading to Starling City... I **hate** that man. Please don't hurt them... dear god, if he hurts my family... _

The willingness to live that had forsaken Sara a few times in the past year flooded back to her now with vengeance. She had an opportunity here-- to learn from murderous experts, yes, but to learn how to fend for herself and how to be strong. Every fiber of her wanted to return to her family, to prevent Ra's from harming them... 

She would devote herself to learning as much as humanly possible and then she would figure out how to leave this furious Hell.

For good.

 

 

 


	20. First Lesson

Nyssa woke up before the sun's rays could stream in through her window. Sara was sprawled out on the cot, fast asleep, sweat dripping down her forehead. _What a difference a few hours makes,_ Nyssa sighed thoughtfully while shedding her clothes. 

She washed her face and her arms, but not the rest of her body. Odds were, if today went as Nyssa had planned the night before, she would be drenched in sweat within the first two hours of training.

Nyssa rehearsed the program in her head. _Weapons training... agility and balance... acrobatics... toxicology... linguistics... intel..._ _environmental training..._ and her absolute favorite, _sparring_. Nyssa was feared throughout Nanda Parbat for her expert combat technique.

When the assassins got together for their annual Games, Nyssa withstood challengers for the past five years, reigning as the most lethal sparring warrior. She proudly carried the whispered title throughout the gleaming halls of their fortress. Outside the walls, she was known by a name more fearsome, a name that caressed the ears of her targets just before her blade did: **ريثا** لل شيطان, _Heir to the Demon_.  


She dabbed her face off with a towel and slipped on form fitting black pants and a black Cami, as well as her favorite black leather boots.  


It was time. 

Kicking Sara's cot and jolting the woman out of a deep sleep, Nyssa called, "Wake up. Your clothes and breakfast sit on the table. You have until half past the hour to be fully ready for your first lesson."

Sara's eyes opened to half-light and she groaned softly. "It's not even light out. I need more sleep..." her head wandered back to the pillow.

"You need to follow orders." 

Nyssa flipped over Sara's cot and the blonde tumbled to the floor in a jumbled heap of sheets and healing cloths. She got the message, glowered at Nyssa, and begrudgingly began to get ready.

Nyssa poured herself some hot mint tea and took the cup outside to the balcony. She cradled the ceramic in her hands, loving the morning air. The prayer flags flapped in the light breeze and steam wafted up from her tea. An orange and pink sunrise began its ascendance behind the mountains to the east, casting long shadows across the plateau.  


"I'm ready," Sara appeared at the balcony door, looking altogether disheveled and out of sorts. 

"Good to know you're a morning person," Nyssa joked as Sara brushed her tousled hair with her hands. "This isn't morning," the blonde growled, taking a bite of one of the seeded rolls Nyssa had put out on the table.

"It is for you, for the coming weeks," Nyssa sipped her tea and stared at the horizon. "You'd better get used to it."

"Well of course, I'll get right on that then." Sara marched back into the bedroom and sat on the cot, inhaling the food before her. Nyssa was glad the woman had her appetite back. That was always a good sign of physical recovery. 

Nyssa gave Sara another few minutes to adjust to the waking world, and then the pair left Nyssa's bed chambers to head to the location of the first lesson.

***

They strode through the sequestered northwestern corridors of the fortress, Nyssa bowing her head to her fellows as they passed. Sara noticed that everyone who walked passed them saluted Nyssa with the utmost respect, diverting their gaze to the floor and raising their hands to a clasped position by their chest. Some even tapped their heels together, stood still and deeply bowed.

The pomp was all-together strange and mildly disconcerting. Nevertheless, it was clear that the people here truly revered Nyssa. And Nyssa certainly returned the respectful gestures, greeting everyone with whom they crossed paths. Sara pocketed the thought in her mind, cataloging it for a time she would need to remember... _Nyssa truly cares for these people._

So much of the assassin's demeanor remained an unsolved mystery to Sara. She felt as if Nyssa was a chameleon whose scales changed with its environment. She had the uncanny ability to formulate her personality to a situation, much to her benefit and reward-- mounting defenses, feigning weakness, laying in wait... ever the predator. Who was Nyssa truly?

 _I guess I'll find out soon enough,_ Sara mused, trailing closely behind the graceful assassin.

They turned another corner and wound up in a beautiful courtyard, beams and pillars giving way to flowing green grass and sunlight. Small children dressed in white robes were tumbling about in the grass and stern-faced teachers observed the child's play, jotting down notes.

"They have one more year of bliss," Nyssa whispered to Sara as they walked by the site.

One of the young children shouted something in a different language and motioned excitedly to Nyssa and Sara. Nyssa gave the amassing group of children a genuine smile and a knowing wink before a little girl with brown hair and freckles ran up to her; Nyssa scooped the girl up into her arms and clasped her in a hug.

"Good morning young one," Nyssa beamed as the little girl grabbed her cheeks playfully, then turned to Sara. Giving out a little gasp, the girl pressed her mouth to Nyssa's ear and hurriedly whispered something.

Nyssa chuckled and the sound of her mirth filled the open quad.

"Adorable," she stated and turned to Sara. "She wants to touch your hair to see if it's real." Even Nyssa's eyes grinned.  
"Umm..." Sara thought aloud, "sure?"

Before she knew it, the little girl and ten of the other more curious children were grabbing at strands of her hair; they yanked at, sniffed, and rubbed her blonde locks on their faces, completely enthralled with its color and touch.

Nyssa and the teachers in the courtyard were beside themselves, and after a minute, even Sara was smiling. Her gaze met Nyssa's and they smiled together, recognizing the joyous moment for its innocence and beauty.

Once the children retreated back to the grass and Nyssa wished them a pleasant day, the two women continued to traipse throughout the halls of Nanda Parbat. Sara wanted to talk and laugh with Nyssa as friends, adventuresome companions, as the joy of her experience filled her. It seemed the invitation didn't stand, as Nyssa had that shielded air again, moving with distinction and purpose down to their training grounds.

"Cute kids," Sara muttered, trying to hold onto the reverie.

***

They arrived at two large doors, grey and sturdy gateways. Nyssa gently pushed one ajar and motioned for Sara to follow her. The room they entered was completely darkened and Sara stopped moving. Her feet planted on the ground and she worked hard to keep her pulse even. This place reminded her too much of the caverns in the mountains.

A light initially flickered then filled the expanse of the room. Sara inhaled the sight, admiring the beauty of the room. Ancient Arabic and Tibetan inscriptions tattooed the wooden beams the reached to the ceiling, and lanterns filled the space with glowing light, giving off an almost spiritual vibe. There were a stack of bamboo fighting sticks in one corner of the room, as well as two ropes  and one metal bar that hung from the ceiling. The sides of the room were composed of sliding paper doors, crisscrossed with wooden lattice work.

The floor was matted and springy to the touch. A few bows hung along the wall, and sharp metallic weapons adorned another.

"Welcome," Nyssa stated, sitting crisscrossed on the mats, her raven hair hanging down over her shoulders.

Sara copied Nyssa's seated position, placing her hands on her knees. "It's beautiful."

"It is my personal _dojo_ ," Nyssa stated, proudly. "I come here to be alone."

Sara held the image in her mind, of Nyssa retreating to this place when her life became a bit too... complicated. Sara missed having her own sanctuary, her own place of solitude to find a sense of fulfillment and restoration. Almost every moment of her past few days had been spent supervised by the healers or spent in Nyssa's company.

"What do you know of the League of Assassins, Sara?" Nyssa's formal question came, the flamed lanterns dancing behind her.

"Not much, really," Sara responded, racking her mind for something more substantial. "I know that you are contracted to kill, that you adhere to some creed, and that your locations and operations are highly classified and hidden. And that you prefer wearing black." She eyed Nyssa, hoping for some visceral response.

Nyssa motioned to the beams and translated the Arabic, the words flowing like silk off her tongue. "Honor. Loyalty. Perseverance. Bravery. Craft. The pillars of our practice. The League was founded by my father to serve as a methods to keep our world in balance. As a swift unit of Shadow and anonymity, we snuff out those whose corruption would carelessly toss the world into chaos and disorder. The League believes in the integrity of keeping the desires of man in harmony with his self-same vices."

Sara listened carefully and Nyssa continued. "Throughout history, the League has successfully intervened when called upon... to change circumstances and tip the scales in another, more fruitful, direction for mankind. We are the harbingers of great tides of change."

"As such," Nyssa paused, taking a deep breath and standing, "we only accept greatness among our ranks, among our legendary history. Our work here, over the next few months, will uncover whether _you_ embody what it takes to be a member in the League. Once I deem that your training is complete, then you will undergo a final test for entrance into our great society. Prove me right, _Ta-er al Sa-fer_ , that you are comprised of strength, determination, and much heart and you will be rewarded by our rich society, our family, our creed."

Nyssa walked over to the bamboo rods and picked one up, lobbing it to Sara, who caught it as the tip clanged against the floor.

The woman came over to Sara and stood directly behind her, grabbing Sara's hips and pulling her feet apart-- into a wider stance. She moved methodically around Sara, as if in orbit, her eye for detail astounding.

"Change your grip," Nyssa commanded, manually adjusting Sara's fingers. "You don't want to have both of your hands over the same portion of the staff."

"Why not?" Sara asked.

" _Ooooofffffffffff_!" her lungs clutched at escaping air as her back hit the ground hard. She grimaced and stood again, facing Nyssa.

"Because you won't be able to wield the weapon quickly enough to utilize its defensive capabilities," Nyssa coolly retorted, as if nothing had happened.

"Now, assume your stance."

Sara stood with her feet just beyond shoulder width and slightly bent her knees, holding the staff aloft-- one hand over, one hand gripping underneath the wood.

"Good," Nyssa crooned. "Now, strike me."

Sara hesitated at the order. The woman in front of her was collected and confident but completely unarmed.

"Strike, _Ta-er al Sa-fer_. Your reticence to act could have already costed you your life... or the life of someone you care about." Nyssa's eyes slanted. "Imagine that I was threatening someone you love, perhaps Laurel."

Sara reeled at the direct mention of your sister and she clutched the staff. "How do you know her name?" she voiced.

"You moan in your sleep," Nyssa goaded, "you beg that her life be spared, that daggers aren't shoved down her throat!"

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Sara launched forward, swinging the right side of the staff over her head and down, aiming for Nyssa's head. Nyssa ducked to the floor and rolled, emerging behind Sara and striking her in the back, hard. Sara fell forward, and turned, bringing the staff back around to block another blow. A strong kick struck the staff and forcibly pinned it to Sara's torso, as she squirmed on the ground, her scar tissue from the wound exploding with pain.

" **Damn it, Nyssa!!** " she screamed, the force of the woman's boot unleashing rivulets of white hot pain. She wriggled there, trying to leverage her body into a position to overturn the hold. Sweat poured from her forehead. Nyssa's steel gaze calculated all of Sara's defensive strategies and countered them, leaving the blonde vulnerable to another blow.

Instead, Nyssa reached her hand down for Sara to take. Sara grasped Nyssa's hand and let the woman pull her back to a standing position.

"There is only one way to learn strength," Nyssa stated.

"You must break the weakness from your body, like shedding a carapace. You emerge all the stronger once your surrender to the possibilities of such a transformation." Sara moved away strands of hair from her drenched face and nodded.

"Show me," she huffed.

Nyssa smiled and tossed the rod to Sara.

"Again."


	21. Practice

The training sessions were hours long, but Nyssa felt as if they were too short. Sara made progress, yes, but slowly and methodically. She was too grounded in her past; there was a considerable weight holding her back, and it would cost Sara in the long run. Nyssa had a strict timetable etched into her mind. Talia had said that her and father would be gone for a couple months... which made it quite clear that what Talia meant was that father was going to _personally_ test Sara upon their return.

The woman before her could be Nyssa's greatest triumph or failure. So, she worked Sara hard, challenging her to aspire to new heights, to conquer incredible obstacles.

Only a week into their sessions, Nyssa could already observe definition weaving its way through Sara's musculature. Her shoulder blades had become more pronounced, and a sweeping curve of muscle embellished the blonde's spine, a protective layer. The scar tissue from the spear wound looked much more manageable now. As Sara had put it, 'it was all the fish food she consumed.' Nyssa admired the woman's work ethic-- Sara's spirit was indomitable. Nyssa could set up obstacle courses and rugged challenges for the woman that even experienced League members would groan at, but Sara never complained, never remarked about their difficulty.

Instead, she would purse her lips, her sapphire eyes taking in the sight, and she would launch in full-stride, taking every blow or challenge as it came. Nyssa sometimes felt herself drifting into a haze when she watched the blonde's movements; she turned over the name she called Sara, _Ta-er al Sa-fer_ , toying with its meaning. _It's almost humorous, calling her a little yellow bird. She works tirelessly, with such grit. Maybe there is a bird that does the same and I just don't know which it is..._

"I'm ready for the next exercise, Nyssa," Sara chimed in, her face coated with a layer of perspiration.

 "Good." Nyssa motioned to the bar hanging from the ceiling. "Climb the rope to reach the bar. Do thirty pull-ups, then hoist your body up so you can hang from the bar from your knees. Do fifty crunches, raising your chin to the bar. Then, climb down the rope. Repeat that three times, then we will be done for the evening. Tomorrow, I will teach you to spar."

Sara's eyes gleamed and she dusted her hands with some chalk. "So, you said a hundred crunches each time, right?" Her eyes twinkled and she inhaled smoothly, pulling her body lightly up the rope and creating a hold with her feet, to arrest momentum. Nyssa watched her form, as Sara breathed in and out with her body's contractions up the rope, a constant motion of formulated grace. Nyssa noticed the shortcoming in Sara's plan before the blonde reached the top of the rope. She had chosen the rope that was further away from the bar, creating additional work for her already exhausted body.

Sara swung on the rope, aloft, using her weight to propel the rope back and forth like a pendulum. Without warning, she let go, launching herself toward the bar. Nyssa's eyes followed her trajectory. Sara's hands grazed the metal bar and wound around it, holding fast, as her body ricocheted for a moment from all of the momentum. "Yeah!" she heard Sara cry triumphantly, as the blonde began her pull-ups.

A soft smile played upon Nyssa's lips and the name re-surfaced in complete sincerity. Sara was her Ta-er _al-Safer_ , through and through.

***

That night, a distinct scent wafted in through the bathroom as Sara soaked her body in a mineral bath. Her stomach rumbled, complaining that it was being maltreated by all the training. It was true. The intensity of the strength training was sculpting not only Sara's body but also the ferocity of her appetite as her metabolism increased. After every day session, Sara had grown more ravenous in her need for food. And tonight, the aroma that came through the bathroom window was hearty and heavenly.

She unplugged the drain and stood, reaching for the towel. After drying off and putting on a light blue tank top and black sweat pants, Sara made her way to the balcony, where the smell was coming from. She dropped the towel onto her cot by the open glass-paned doors and stepped out into the alpine evening air. Nyssa sat on the stone floor of the balcony, one hand marking her place in a foreign novel and the other automatically stirring a pot of something thick and saucy. She read and cooked by lantern-light, her dark eyes drinking in the words on the page.

The prayer flags seemed to salute Sara's entrance, flapping ever so gaily in the breeze. Sara breathed in deeply and gazed at the dark blue silhouettes of the mountains, capped by the twinkle of starlight. This spot had easily become her favorite, dividing the life in Nanda Parbat from the airy expanse where she could freely gaze at the peaks and sky and dream.

"It smells amazing out here!"

Nyssa momentarily looked up from her book, acknowledging Sara's presence. She placed the book down and turned her undivided attention to the pots of warm food, ladling out a heap of basmati rice and the reddish goop on top of it. 

"You trained well today. I am sure you must be hungry..." Nyssa extended the bowl to Sara, who sat down across from Nyssa and happily accepted the steaming gift. Sara lifted a spoonful to her mouth, already salivating.

"Mmmmmmmmm, oh man!" Sara's insides filled with warmth as a flurry of warming spices greeted her tongue-- the sauce was creamy and rich with flavor, peppers and red spices coating it, and the long grain rice changed the texture of each bite.

"Nyssa, this is insanely good. Who do I have to thank for dropping it off tonight?" Sara scarfed more food in her face.

"No one dropped it off," Nyssa murmured, her features dancing in the lantern light. "I took it upon myself to cook something tonight. I am elated to hear that it's satisfactory."

"You can cook?!" Sara peered over the top of her bowl, her eyes wide. "I've been here for a while now and usually the elders drop off all of our meals. I just assumed that you didn't dirty your hands much with common things..."

Nyssa ladled some more of their meal into Sara's bowl, which was approaching empty. "Usually I don't partake in cooking, but when I infrequently do so, I thoroughly enjoy it. I thought today could serve as an exception, since it is the successful end of your first week of training."

Sara looked at Nyssa. The feeling returned, a sweeping hum throughout her body. She smiled, "So, you cooked for me then? I feel..." she searched for the right word. "Honored. Thank you." Nyssa's face softened and she looked up at the stars.

"You deserved it-- the kitchen's slop is pretty mediocre, since they cook for so many of Nanda Parbat's inhabitants. I had hoped you could be treated to something special for the occasion."

Sara appreciated the gesture more than Nyssa knew. The last time she had had a home cooked meal was over a year and a half ago, when her father invited Oliver over to dinner with their family...

_"Laurel, sweetie!" Dinah shouted while setting the table. "The door! Oliver's here!"_

_"Coming!" Laurel responded, trotting down the stairs, running her fingers through her hair and checking herself in the mirror before opening the front door._

_"Why hello there," Oliver said smoothly, pulling Laurel in for a kiss and brandishing a bottle of wine. "I bring the finest Pinot Grigio from my father's private stash for the occasion!" He handed Dinah the bottle after she kissed his cheek and welcome him to their home, and Sara heard her father remark on how he didn't want to have to arrest Oliver again for breaking and entering into his father's liquor stores._

_The two men chuckled at the joke and Quentin went back to the stove, earnestly stirring the pots on the burners while adding oils and spices. Sara loved her father's cooking. It always had a hearty, earthy taste to it. Her mother, for all her astounding qualities, couldn't cook to save her life._

_Sara had made sure she wore something extra revealing for Oliver's arrival. Her white shirt barely concealed the laced black bra underneath, and her shorts hugged her upper thighs tightly, detailing the soft curves of her hips. She caught Oliver's sidelong stare and bit her lower lip, her eyes flashing back at him._

_He unwrapped his arm around Laurel and came over to the couch where Sara was. "Hey, Sara!" he exclaimed happily, "It's been so long! How have you been?" He pressed himself into her in a large hug, so she could feel the bulge in his pants. She smiled up at him knowingly and retorted, "Yes, quite too long Ollie. It's good to see you're doing well!"_

_The five of them sat down to dinner and Sara relished the secrecy. Laurel had rubbed her relationship with Oliver in her face for too long, saying how 'perfect and loyal' he was to her, how they were preparing to take the 'next step' and move in together. It made Sara ache with more longing for him-- knowing that Laurel thought that they simply 'belonged together.'_

_Ollie excused himself to go to the bathroom at one point during the meal. Not a minute later, Sara felt the vibration of her phone in her pocket. She checked it under the table as her parents and Laurel continued their conversation about some important law case that involved two of the city's finest police men._

_[Ollie: I am aching to see that laced bra without your shirt... I plan to fake some family emergency so I can go home tonight, alone. Why don't you join me later? My window will be open and I am pretty sure I will be waiting for you without clothes.]_

_Sara half-smiled and typed her response._

_[Well aren't you all business tonight. I will see you then. ;)]_

_Oliver emerged from the restroom and thanked the Lance family profusely for the outstanding meal. He leaned over and grabbed Laurel's hands. "I'm so sorry, beautiful, but I have to go be with my family tonight. Thea just texted me that there's been an emergency and I wouldn't feel right being away from them."_

_Laurel gazed up lovingly at Oliver. "Send them our love. You will be missed." She gave him a significant glance and he responded with a kiss. Then, his eyes fell upon Sara, taking in the sight of her again. She gave him a half smile and heard herself say, "Thanks for coming, Ollie! See you soon."_

_He turned and left._

_Sara recalled how later that night, her and Ollie had sex four times before stopping, the pair of them sweating their desires into the bed sheets until finally their bodies couldn't perform anymore._

"Where did you go?" Nyssa's voice snapped Sara out of her memories.

"Sorry," Sara stammered and looked down at her bowl. "Your cooking is so delicious that it reminded me of my dad's cooking... specifically, the last night he cooked for me before I..." her throat had partially closed, "left town. And then 'drowned.' They think I'm dead. It's probably better that way."

Nyssa's eyes glowed over the dim light. "Why would you ever say that?" she asked, hushed.

Sara fought to win control over her emotions, but guilt was reliably crawling up her abdomen, settling in the tender spaces between her ribs.

"Well, for starters, the last time someone make me dinner, I ended up sleeping with my sister's boyfriend."

Nyssa remained silent, giving Sara space to continue.

"I liked him a lot, Ollie..." Sara stated, as if she was convincing herself of something.

"But he was with my sister, Laurel. And I ruined their relationship by taking him away from her. Then..." The wind rippled across the balcony. "Then, I went on his father's ship, on a secret rendezvous trip with Ollie, and the ship hit something. I was sucked out as it capsized and by the time I resurfaced, clinging to driftwood in the ocean-- let's just say that I had hoped I would have just drowned." 

Nyssa watched the blonde wrestle with her dark emotions. Sara's perturbed nature contrasted with the pure radiance of the starlight. It was as if Sara was trying to exorcise herself of something wretched.

"For days after the shipwreck, I thought everything was my fault. I was so _selfish_ and my family now thinks I'm dead. I can't even imagine what Laurel thinks of me... the man she loved and her sister 'died' on that boat. Half her life died on the _Gambit_ and it's all because I was so stupid and awful... so awful."

Nyssa waited for Sara to continue speaking, but it seemed like the woman hit her last wall as tears slid down the blonde's face.

"I have no doubt that you will redeem yourself one day to your family and right your wrongs. Life has handed you an opportunity; in all your mistakes, you choose to turn inward and learn to grow. That is wise. There are many who return to their same mistakes because they are too arrogant or greedy to exist beyond themselves."

Nyssa felt like her speech was too esoteric for Sara at that moment, so instead, she offered-- "Sara, I know you are suffering from a great deal of pain. This week has been physically rigorous and demanding, and emotionally its taken a toll. Why don't you sleep in my bed tonight? You need a proper night's sleep for the coming days and I am quite aware of the quality of sleep one can get laying on a cot."

Sara looked at Nyssa, tear-streaked, and nodded slowly. She followed the graceful assassin into her bed chamber and Nyssa lifted silken, crimson covers to let Sara in. Upon curling up into a ball, her blonde hair cascading around her face, Sara's breathing began to even out and she fell asleep almost instantly.

Nyssa went to the balcony, turning over the woman's honest story in her thoughts, and resumed her seated position against the outer stone wall of her room. She faced the honest sky, contemplating how quaint yet unfamiliar the universe felt at that moment.

A couple hours later, Nyssa found her way to bed, taking the unoccupied side that faced the expanse of the room and the door. Her eyes fluttered with recollection for a few more minutes, until she too fell fast asleep.

***

 


	22. Capitulation

Sara awoke lazily the next morning, savoring the comfortable feeling of warmth.

The sun languidly ascended across the eastern sky, and Sara's feet danced back and forth across the expanse of the mattress, enjoying the downy feel of the sheets.

She didn't realize it until now but her body was pressed against something incredibly warm that smelled of mint. Sara's eyes widened as she realized that her breasts and the front of her body curled into Nyssa's, her left arm draped over the woman's side. Their legs were entangled and Sara could feel Nyssa's battle hardened body flexing under her own as Nyssa's breathing came in a soft cadence.

Holding her breath deep in her chest, Sara tried to release her arm, unwinding it slowly from around the sleeping assassin.

As Sara's fingertips softly retreated across Nyssa's torso, the ebony haired woman arched her back in her sleep and moaned. Sara stopped moving, completely out of her depths. Her own hips responded to the sound that escaped Nyssa's lips, as if an orange light emanated outward and pulsed together with the bright red of Nyssa's own energetic signature. Sara swallowed hard and pulled her arm away from Nyssa, who remained fast asleep.

Laying on her back, her heart beating quickly, Sara pulled the covers up to her face.

 _I cuddled with Nyssa al Ghul last night..._ her thoughts reeled. She must have had a nightmare or something and her body subconsciously reacted by holding fast to Nyssa's warmth. Sara gazed at the ceiling, her carotid artery pulsing haphazardly with the acknowledgment of their closeness. Laying still was tormenting her... Her muscles felt so much better than the day before.

If anything, they now ached for action. Yet... she felt so safe wrapped under the dark red covers of Nyssa's bed.

She got out of bed and made her way to the balcony. The book Nyssa was reading last night lay spine up on the stone and the wind played with the pages. Cinders from the cooking fire still crackled and the pots were exactly where they had been the night before.

 _I wonder how late she was up,_ Sara caught herself wondering, as she took a seat on the stones, her finger absentmindedly winding up an ornate, sheer piece of one of the silk flags.

After a full week of training, Sara admitted to herself that she _did_ feel different. All of the strength conditioning gave her something to genuinely look forward to. She had never realized how much she enjoyed the feeling of sweating, of her body toiling away. With every exercise, she imagined that the beads of sweat were rapidly collecting all of her poisonous memories of the previous couple of years. As they fell, something in her grew lighter, less weary of circumstance-- more present.

The harder the exercise, the more of herself she had to focus on centering in the here and now...

The wind interrupted her thoughts and demanded she view her surroundings. Beaming light from the sun had overcome the apex of the mountains and proudly illuminated the vast terrain. Sara couldn't help but smile and breathe deeply. She would be completely foolish not to appreciate the exquisite beauty of this place... _and its inhabitants._

Her thoughts returned to the dozing woman in the bed chamber, the slight catch of her breathing after she inhaled and the feel of their bodies pressing together as she let the air go...

Having Nyssa as a mentor meant performing at the fullest, no matter how her body silently screamed for respite. She recalled the past week-- if she desperately tried, perhaps she could remember how many times she had been struck, had fallen, had been bruised or disgraced. None of that mattered to Nyssa. Her gaze alone exacted perfection-- it was if her eyes could balance an equation of justice and suffering at a glance. She betrayed no pain in her face when they sparred, and she executed techniques with such an acute sense of precision and poise. Sara felt baffled and awestruck by the woman's incredible obeisance to all of her arts.

"How long have you been awake?"

Nyssa's silky morning voice startled Sara. She turned to look at the assassin who stood at the door frame. A sheer red, long silk shirt draped over the woman's form, highlighting the contours of her physique. She wore tight black shorts underneath the hanging red. Heat rose in Sara's face as she recalled the positioning of their bodies upon waking. She avoided eye contact with Nyssa.

"A little while," Sara stated to the open air. Nyssa rekindled the fire and set up the teapot on top, tossing in tea leaves without a care.

"I see..." she stated, then yawned. "Gorgeous morning, really." Sara's face felt like it was aflame.

 _She isn't talking about you, idiot. CALM DOWN._ Sara scrunched her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them defensively.

"Are we training today?" she asked, only minorly interested in the answer.

"No," came Nyssa's voice, cutting through the haze of Sara's thoughts. "It's a recovery day. We are going to explore each other."

Sara coughed, choking on the bits of her saliva that fell down her throat in sheer surprise. She gazed up at Nyssa, who practically glowed in the morning light.

"We're going to do what now?" Sara asked, trying to be nonchalant.

"Explore each other's past. It is the greatest way to tease out potential."

Nyssa poured two cups of piping hot tea, and without missing a beat, drew the steaming mug to her lips, a look of total relaxation settling over her. Sara, meanwhile, reeled from the morning and Nyssa's manner of speech. _Does she know? Is she toying with me? I wouldn't put it past her. She's openly admitted to me how much she enjoys watching me squirm..._

Her brow furrowed and she reached for the tea while Nyssa's mischievous gaze documented her every move.

Sara cleared her throat. "Hey, I'm all for potential." Her voice cracked as the last words squeezed past her lips.

_What is wrong with me? I haven't fumbled this much since that time Oliver and I met for the first time... though, this feels much worse._

The growing ache in her gut acknowledged her intuition but dismissed it as a joke.

Surely, she wasn't feeling affection for Nyssa? Sara nervously traced her pointer finger around the rim of the teacup as her mind raced.

_NOPE._

_No, I am not._

_I just feel awkward because I spooned with an assassin last night... a lethal female assassin who is the daughter of some genocidal maniac who impaled me with a SPEAR!_

_And, **and**... she made me dinner last night... AS a gesture of celebration for completing a difficult component of training. Assassin training. I am cohabiting with a woman who kills people for a living... No. In the name of ancient code of conduct. _

_Does that make it better?_

_I don't know but if I hold the knowledge of what happened last night inside, I am going to feel this jumpy for days. I have to figure out how to tell her... maybe we can go back to sleeping apart..._

_Ugh, but that bed is so wonderfully soft and comfortable and last night, I got the best sleep I have had since... well, since this whole thing began.  
_

"Pardon the intrusion, Sara," Nyssa stated. "I am going to go bathe and get dressed. Take about half an hour to sort out what you will be wearing for the day and meet me at the southeast corner of the courtyard." Sara nodded and watched as Nyssa got up and walked calmly to the bathroom; she was unsurprised to see Nyssa shedding her night dress as she turned to enter the bathroom.

Brushing her fingertips back through her blonde locks, Sara stared up at the morning sky and let out a huge sigh. Then, she busied herself with getting ready, letting the chatter in her head fall away, slowly, until it finally ebbed.

***


	23. Holding On

Nyssa lit the sandalwood incense and bowed her head forward, taking a moment to focus on her breath as the conduit for clearing away her wayward thoughts. The earthy odor reached her nose and filled her head with an almost dizzying sensation, a flooding of energy that pooled in the lymph nodes in her throat and pulsed into her jaw. She whispered the prayer, words dancing with the wisps of smoke.

Minutes later, she picked up the sack she had laid out the night before and exited her bed chamber. It seemed that Sara had already made her way down to the courtyard. The usually busy halls were quite empty this morning and the silence juxtaposed too starkly with Nyssa's echoing steps.

As customary, she saw the golden sheen of Sara's hair before taking sight of the woman herself.

"Are you prepared?" she asked Sara, who stood a bit clumsily, as if she needed to lean on something concrete for support.

Sara nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, lead the way! To, wherever it is we are going..." With each passing moment, it became quite clear that Sara needed to understand what their day would look like, so Nyssa indulged her.

"There is a beautiful area we are going to just a short hike from here. I think you will enjoy the surroundings." Sara's expression changed to reflect only minor bafflement, and Nyssa's eyes softened. "Just follow me."

After making their way out of the fortress, Nyssa bent down to take off her shoes. She stowed them away in her pack and flexed her feet against the feel of the dusty earth, her toes embracing the patches of grass. For their session to work well today, Nyssa's body had to be fully in tune with her surroundings; that process began with being completed rooted--grounded, confident and powerfully connected to everything below her and around her.

She visualized a garnet orb firmly holding the base of her spine, tethering her corporeal form to the wider energy of the earth-- entwining with the plants around her, nourished with the dirt. The red grew brighter as she traipsed, barefoot, across the plateau, Sara trodding along behind her. The woman was quite oblivious to the internal process Nyssa was steadily opening herself to. Sara mostly gazed at the path in front of her, peering downward as if a sizable weight pressed upon her shoulders.

 _Her harmful thoughts must be expunged for this to all work... I hope she has the ability to subdue whatever it is that ails her._ Nyssa motioned for Sara to follow at a quicker pace, as the sun assumed its noontime sentry overhead.

***

They walked for another half an hour until the sound of flowing water filtered in-- a gushing, frolicking rapture. Nyssa motioned for Sara to sit down close to the bank. She drew a match and incense out of her pack and lit the dainty stick. A thin line of scented smoke rose into the air, coating the area with the  patchouli and basil.

"As I mentioned this morning, today is a recovery day full of exploring our potential. Such potentials can be realized individually, as well as together as a unit. Within the League, we learn time and again how to act swiftly with a partner. On missions, it proves paramount to intuit and intercept the needs of your associate... as if their actions were a direct extension of your own."

Nyssa curled her toes toward her inner thighs, assuming a grounded position. Sara imitated her seated positioning.

"As you undergo this process, strong emotions and physical memories will surface that need to be resolved and accepted. If you are up for this task, the cleansing will be ample reward for your efforts. You must hold each cycle in your mind with a sense of purpose and clarity... do you think you can do this?"

Sara considered Nyssa's words and gave a firm nod. "Are you doing it as well?" she asked, a tinge of wariness framing her question.

"Yes," Nyssa replied, "and I intend to facilitate this process for you since this is your first time. It will be taxing on you."

"I can handle it."

There. That was the _Ta-er Al Sa-fer_ that Nyssa had come to know.

"Good," Nyssa's eyes fell upon the simmering incense and she inhaled deeply. "Let's begin."

***

"The base of your energy is what connects you to this earth, to all living beings here. This center of energy houses your most instinctual needs, your primal desire to survive. If blocked, you can experience a lack of confidence, anxiety, even perhaps feelings of being unloved. Yet, when fiery energy flows through your base, your life will be full of vibrancy and freedom. I want you to look inside and feel the hum of red energy pulsing at the base of your spine. Let whatever surfaces-- emotionally-- come to the forefront and share it to me." Nyssa's eyes remained closed, serene, as she spoke.

Sara felt a stirring at the base of her spine as two bright memories played in her mind.

The first was of playing baseball with her father. He had shown her how to swing the bat numerous times, but once her younger self stepped up to the plate, she always invented new ways to use the bat as an instrument for play. Dimpled cheeks aglow, Sara would hold the bat in the middle and use either end to hit the ball. "Sara, sweetie," Quentin would call, "that's not how you do it." He strode over to her from the pitcher's mound, dumping his glove on the dirt, his eyes sincere but determined. "Come now, this is how you hold this." Sara would smile and snatch her father's Starling City baseball cap, placing the large black cap over her small head and running around the bases. Her father would give her the absolute best hugs, chuckling as he held his youngest daughter in his arms.

_My freedom._

"I love you, dad," Sara muttered aloud, her eyes shut tight as to hold onto the quickly fading scene of her childhood. She felt a deep shift in the energy in her body, as if something was releasing gradually within her. Perhaps it was the fear of losing him, or maybe it was the fear of already being lost to him... to all of them.

"Mine is always the same..." Nyssa remarked, her usual sharp eyes somewhat glossed by the fog of recollection.

"How?" Sara asked.

"My mother." Nyssa spoke evenly as if her emotions lapped up behind her words and threatened to spill over. "I always see what I remembered to be my mother. I was so young... she was killed." Sara couldn't even imagine what sort of grief she would experience if her mother had been taken from her...

"I'm sorry Nyssa."

"I came to peace with it long ago, _Ta-er Al Sa-fer_ , but I have not overlooked the kindness in your words. My freedom rests in knowing that I do what I must to ensure justice for women like her. Perhaps then, their sons, their daughters will not share my burden of fate. Perhaps they will not grow up like I did."

Whenever Nyssa offered glimpses of her past and her philosophy on how the world worked, Sara found herself listening intently. It was if Nyssa's speech unraveled and belied her calm exterior, and Sara could experience the woman's sorrow, the tinge of grief that echoed in her voice.

 

 


	24. Sacrum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who were patient with my slow postings over the past month or so! I have been traveling and have not had much access to the magical Interwebz. Be prepared for many postings over the course of the week, as I have been working on OL (Oblivion's Light) quite a bit. Enjoy!

“Now that we’ve established the base of our cleansing, let us move on to the next energy center.” Nyssa brusquely moved past her emotional vulnerability, taking out a different incense from her bag and striking it against the nearest rock. A totally different scent washed over Sara, the strong smell of cinnamon overtaking and redirecting the both of them.

“Breathe it in,” Nyssa commanded, her voice a backdrop to the trickling water of the river. “This energy center sits in your sacrum and characterizes your drive for love, your ability to feel pleasure.”

Sara squirmed a bit at Nyssa’s words. “In order to release the toxins in this area, you must focus on ways in which you block love and pleasure in your own life. Concentrate on those memories and dissolve the tension you feel…”

Sara closed her eyes and the experiences came to focus, slowly at first, then as a gathering storm. She felt a massive lump well at the base of her throat as the image of Laurel came to mind. So much guilt surrounded her relationship with her sister. She had always envied Laurel’s ability to be the glowing center of a room, to stand out no matter where she went… Laurel had the uncanny way of attracting all those whom Sara felt affection for, especially Oliver. Her eyebrows drew together as she thought of how many times she had ached for Oliver’s attention at Laurel’s expense.

“I don’t think I will be able to move past this center, Nyssa,” Sara admitted.

Nyssa eyed Sara thoughtfully. “What keeps you here?”

Perhaps it was the openness of the question or Sara felt as if Nyssa would understand. She opened up at the invitation to speak. “It’s my sister, Laurel…”

“The one you dream about often?” Nyssa entreated.

“Yes. She and I have a…” Sara fumbled for the right word. “…strained relationship.”

Nyssa nodded at Sara’s admission. “I certainly understand that. My sister, Talia, and I don’t get on very well to say the least. To be more frank, we despise each other.”

Sara watched as Nyssa’s body coiled with tension at the mention of her sister. “Why do you despise each other?”

“Talia is exceptionally greedy and power hungry. In a variety of ways, I believe that Talia feels insecure about her place in the family. She aspires to empower herself through intimidation, manipulation, flexible morality and… besotting my reputation with father in any manner possible. It was much worse when we were young girls.” Nyssa watched the running water and paused.

“Father was quite clear with us both about the roles we were to inherit when we came of age. I understood perfectly the burden of being the eldest and carried with me the knowledge that one day I would be looking after the League as its leader. I am my father’s heir.”

“Talia always envied that position. She failed to comprehend exactly what weight it was to carry the history and living memory of the League. She didn’t care to look into its traditions and preserve its authenticity of purpose. Talia, in her narrow minded interpretation of her own role, could not see what incredible responsibilities came with the duty of being the oldest… of having an entire culture placed on one’s shoulders. All she cared about what carving her own identity in our family. It tore me apart, when we were girls, learning again and again that it was impossible to trust her. Not even our father, whom Talia reveres, ever knew what her deepest intentions were when she spoke, when she acted. I often see my sister as masked.”

Sara felt the guilt again. The feeling of a muddled, hungry ache in her stomach. She had never stopped to imagine what Laurel’s responsibilities were… she had always just thought her sister acted the way she did in order to make their father proud.

Perhaps, all these years, she had been mistaken and Laurel strove to carry the Lance family name, a name full of pride and diligent work.

_Maybe I was more like Talia growing up… willing to go to any length to be independent of my family’s perspective of me. All I wanted was freedom. And all I did was hurt them the more for it…_

Sara peered at Nyssa. “I think I understand now,” she said. “I know why I am stuck. Hearing you speak of your sister reminded me of how I treated Laurel growing up. She was the perfect one, and I was lost I think. I wanted to be an individual. I wanted to be wanted by others not because I was a Lance, or Laurel Lance’s younger sister… but because I was me.”

Nyssa moved a bit closer to Sara, a gesture Sara felt was meant to comfort her.

“What I would give, now, to tell her I am sorry…” The weight of the words settled into the river bank around them and Sara placed her palms in the grass, wrapping the soft blades around her fingers. She knew that she had hit upon a huge vulnerability of her own.

This feeling had primarily been holding her back, ever since the Queen’s Gambit capsized. Directing Oliver’s attention away from her sister, seducing him into being with her… that guilt was nothing compared with the guilt she felt at driving her sister away, at continuously being awful to Laurel.

“Sometimes, all we can do is acknowledge that we’re wrong and learn from the mistakes we made. I hope that one day, you can reconcile with your sister. It seems quite important to you.” Sara listened to Nyssa and glanced at the woman’s face. She read pain behind the onyx eyes, the type of pain that apologies could not begin to erase.

“I am sorry that you don’t feel the same, about you and Talia…” Sara offered as her sincere condolence.

Nyssa shook her head and smiled weakly. “I wish it came down to mere feeling. I’m afraid Talia and I are beyond the point of the resolution of our differences. Nevertheless, I find pleasures in my life elsewhere—and give thanks for those minute but beautiful moments.”

Her voice lingered, and Sara stared at Nyssa, who seemingly had transitioned from solemn to playful in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah,” Sara said, “I certainly get that… I feel a bit better now. I think we can move on.”

***

The process of cleansing was taxing, as Nyssa had mentioned it would be. After working through the cloudiness of the third center—the seat of personal strength and power—Sara felt exhausted. Sweat poured from her skin and she relaxed for a few minutes, laying back on the river bank and listening to the flowing water.

Her head swam from the ton of information she had been processing, about both herself and Nyssa. It seemed a bit uncanny that they had been able to work through such intense emotions in a short time. We’ve been able to accomplish much together. 

Nyssa called it a day, packing up her supplies and signaling to Sara that it was time to head back to the walls of their sequestered city. Sara noticed, as they turned to leave, that Nyssa left the burning incense stick behind and nodded her head courteously to the river bank. How often did the assassin muster prayer?

The way back felt like it took much longer than their journey to the site earlier that day. A lingering wariness hung around them. Perhaps it was the intensity of their exhaustion; perhaps it was something else entirely. Sara couldn’t put her finger on it so she brushed the feeling aside, focusing intently on her footfall. 

“We resume training tomorrow,” Nyssa broke the silence. 

“Okay,” Sara acknowledged, struggling to keep her eyes open as they approached the dimly lit outer wall of Nanda Parbat.

“As for our sleeping arrangements tonight…” Nyssa’s voice cut through Sara’s deepening haze, snapping her to attention.

“Yes?” 

“Why don’t you take my bed? I will take the cot.” 

Sara was thankful that Nyssa couldn’t see her gaze in the growing starlight. Her expressions betrayed her; she wasn’t sure how to feel. Did this mean Nyssa was awake when their bodies were pressed together last night? 

“I won’t argue with you,” Sara laughed somewhat nervously. “I appreciate your sacrifice.”

“I hardly consider this a sacrifice,” Nyssa’s voice had its silky timbre again. 

I wish I could figure you out… Sara thought. She turned over Nyssa’s comment as they made their way through the familiar chambers and halls that led to Nyssa’s bedchamber. More than she wanted to admit, she couldn’t be more excited to collapse onto Nyssa’s soft sheets and sleep. 

As the weight of her emotional upheaval pressed upon her, Sara sank into bed like an anchor being released from a ship. Within minutes, she was fast asleep and did not dream. 

***

Nyssa got undressed and went over to Sara’s cot, hearing the woman breathe rhythmically as she slumbered. Nyssa sat on the edge of the cot, recalling the day Dawa and the healers had brought Sara to her bedchamber, bloodied and frenzied. 

Today taught her much about the nature of her own emotions for Sara… she felt as if someone had strapped her into the car of a roller coaster. It was difficult to separate her loathing of what Sara did to her in the mountain from the affection she felt toward her pupil. She had come to a significant realization that day, when they were working through their fourth energy center—that of the heart. Her channels were completely blocked. Nothing pulsed, nothing moved. That is, nothing until she looked at Sara. Catching each other’s gaze, drinking in the depth of her sapphire eyes, Nyssa realized that for the first time in her life, her heart stirred for another… the woman before her literally had drawn her to the brink of death and, simultaneously, gave off such purity in her light. She was thrilling to be with, yet the feelings maddened Nyssa. 

A little distance proves helpful tonight. Nyssa took her clothes off and lay down upon the cot, letting her dissonant thoughts dissolve with the waxing moonlight.


	25. Beaten

Her voice sounded like a scuffed footprint against something granular-- gritty and impatient.

"Again."

Sara spat out the blood pooling at the front of her mouth, not even caring that the seeping red would stain Nyssa's precious dojo mats. She ached from her thorough beat down, pain radiating through her body.

Nyssa had promised they would resume training the day after their ritual cleansing, but this? This was brutal and totally unfair. Sara had been told that the program would be 'stepped up a notch.' If this was only _a notch_ , she was pretty sure that broken bones would fit in somewhere between the definition of the first and second notch...

Her legs wanted to buckle underneath her but she bit her bottom lip and stood, facing her attacker. It frustrated her immensely that Nyssa barely had a scratch on her porcelain skin. Sara wanted to claw at Nyssa's body and inflict the same injury, the same shame upon Nyssa as she currently felt.

It was if Nyssa could sense the anger fuming around Sara, and she cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

"This is our final round for the morning," her voice drawled a bit, as if she expected better... as if she was bored. Sara clenched her fists.

"When the tower bell chimes, that's when our round begins. You'll have three minutes to defend yourself..." she eyed Sara, sizing up her condition and threw in, "since attacking wouldn't be a wise course of action."

Sara couldn't wait for the bell to ring. She felt adrenaline surge through her body; Nyssa's condescending remark was getting to her, a bit too much.

 _GONG_.

There it was.

Sara crouched down instinctively, since the beginning of their last round consisted of Nyssa's issuing an uppercut to Sara's jaw -- sending her back to the mat in a dizzying heap.

This time, Nyssa came at her with flying kicks. Sara rolled to her left and quickly got to her feet, assuming a defensive stance as one of Nyssa's kicks missed its intended mark and the woman landed on the mat.

Sara lifted her fists to her face, a boxer's stance, and made sure her footing was firm and wide -- but not too wide because that had spelled disaster in their first round that morning.

Nyssa also raised her fists, framing her rapacious eyes. They circled one another for a few seconds, calculating distance, deciding when to strike based on their acute observations of faltering technique.

Nyssa smirked and Sara caught on quickly. Sara had dropped her left elbow just a hair, but it was enough to compromise her ability to defend the left side of her face and her ear. Nyssa pivoted her stance, winding up her kinetic energy, and exploded her hip in the opposite direction-- unleashing a hook shot to Sara's unguarded cheekbone.

Sara ducked as fast as she possibly could and stepped into the fray, compressing the distance between them. She lifted her left hand to block Nyssa's hook from ravaging her ear and issued a jab, fast and powerful.

It connected squarely with Nyssa's jaw. Nyssa growled with fury and unleashed a combination attack that Sara didn't have time to react to. Two body shots, one jab, a strong cross, a hook to her head and the final cross to her face. Sara's lip crackled with blood and she could feel the left side of her face swelling from the intensity of the impact. She, once again, collided hard with the mat-- this time prone on her back. She turned over and heaved out the blood that was seeping down her throat, causing her to choke.

By the time her eyes focused on anything but the mat, Nyssa had already gone to the equipment rack and had fully unraveled the wraps from her hands. Without so much as turning to address Sara, she left the dojo.

The only sound Sara heard was the hitch of her own breathing as she held her shaking limbs up on the mat. She crouched on all fours, letting her knees and elbows hold the bulk of her weight. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath, her wrapped fists staining the mat with sweat.

Her forehead dropped to the mat. She wanted desperately to cry but it felt wrong to. Her lesson had been disgraceful that day but there was no reason to cry-- none.

No other thoughts came to mind. No other wishes or desires. There was a strand of negative chatter that cropped up, welling like a new spring at the forefront of her thoughts. It asked her what Oliver would have done? _Would he have cried?_ _How much does it take to break you, Sara Lance?_

That voice belonged to someone else-- someone Sara hadn't thought about in quite a while. She shook her head against the mat to physically bore out the memory.

Next time, she would be stronger. Prepared.

_Dangerous._

The word settled behind her eyelids, captive to the darkness behind her shut eyes. She welcomed it-- for once, it felt promising, the idea of being feared. There was a distinct price to failure, one that she had suffered in numerous ways for too long.

 _Dangerous..._ everything about that word made her feel stronger. She thought of the way Ra's al Ghul was perceived by his followers, by his enemies. She thought of the confidence that Nyssa exuded in combat. More than anything, laying there, Sara wanted to _be feared_.

She wanted to be respected.

Propping herself up slowly, grimacing, Sara felt the wave of anger surge through her again as she pictured Nyssa leaving without saying anything to her.

That action alone spoke volumes to Sara about how little Nyssa respected her abilities.

Sara spat blood again onto the mat, wiping the moisture from her face. She smoothed back her stained hair and limped her way to the dojo door, only pausing for an instant to salute the religious symbols in the room.

She only had a couple hours of rest before being brought before the other pupils... Nyssa had told her that part of her training would involve being part of a group of acolytes, all coming together to fight for coveted acceptance into the League. The masters would observe the interactions and skills of their pupils and discuss who would be worthy of advancing to the next round of training. Sara shuddered to think of what could happen to those too weak to remain in the group... she knew so many sides of Nyssa... She knew, deep down, that Nyssa would be capable of killing those lacking merit.

The events of the afternoon loomed, making her feel a bit nervous. One thing was for sure.

She would not look like _total shit_ when the time came.


	26. Proven

Sara limped back to Nyssa's bedroom, her blood boiling in her ears. Half-hidden glances followed her along the marble corridors of the fortress. She might have been paranoid, but she felt as if the wind carried whispers of her weakness. Her fresh bruises and blood were a bright canvas to all observers, and they had the ability to interpret at will-- it was beyond her control.

And that infuriated her.

Finally, she came to the door that led to Nyssa's bed chamber. Sara raised her palm to knock on the dark, sonorous wood and then scowled. _Forget it,_ she thought and barged in.

Nyssa turned the sink nozzle off. The room was filled with the remnant steam from her shower. Nyssa barely gave Sara any form of acknowledgment as she toweled off and went to make herself a pot of her finest jasmine tea.

Sara watched the woman in disbelief. How could she be so rude? They had been through so much together and today had been tough, but to give her such silent treatment?!

Just as Nyssa was about to step, barefoot, out onto her coveted balcony, Sara stopped her.

"You're a child, you know that?" she snapped, the white hot feeling of fury welling up again in her throat. "How much have I been put through to _prove myself to you_ , to you all, and you just leave me there?! I'm done, Nyssa." Sara made her way to the cot.

Nyssa intercepted her, blocking her way. Her eyes were menacing and cold as she stared at Sara.

"And you entering _my_ chamber without permission, verbally attacking me and not working through your own emotional outburst after being beaten... what's that, Sara? You seem to be just as petty, just as petulant as you insinuate I am." The words practically hissed out of her lips.

Sara pushed Nyssa, hard, against the cot, her hands grasping around the assassin's neck.

"I dare you to call me that again, Nyssa!" she shouted. Nyssa looked taken aback. She had fully expected Sara to be reeling from her intimidation tactics. Usually, that worked to break a pupil down and cause them to soul search. For Sara, it just fueled the fire in her eyes.

Nyssa stomped on Sara's foot, causing her to howl in pain, and flipped the girl over onto the bed. Their bodies were locked together; Sara tried to gain some leverage through establishing grip with her feet, as they had worked through in _Jiu Jitsu_ style combat practice. Nyssa's bulk didn't budge. Her coal black eyes stared into Sara's, their chests heaving rhythmically against each other.

Sara parted her lips, as if to say something, but stopped.

Nyssa broke the silence, digging her hips down to prevent Sara from maneuvering her lower body into a better position.

"Now that I have your attention," she began, "let's get something straight. I have put my own life on the line, have risked my hard-earned reputation in the League and my credentials with my family, to train you to perfection. Either you will rise to the occasion, as I think you are meant to, or you and I both fail."

Sara's eyes glossed over, some of the loathing fading away.

"I cannot be--" Nyssa searched for the appropriate word. "-- _compromised_ in any way that jeopardizes that success."

"What do you mean, compromised?" Sara's ribs were starting to hurt from the pressure of having Nyssa on top of her.

"You know what I mean, _Ta-er Al As-fer_." The words were resolute and heavy, thick around them.

Sara felt a rush of guilt and pleasure well up in her stomach. It spread down to her inner thighs and she audibly let the air she was trapping in her chest out, all in a burst.

"You should know that physical pain induces emotion," Nyssa said, a bit more even-keel.

Sara nodded. "I am familiar with that."

"Well, then perhaps you can understand my meaning for leaving today. It had nothing to do with your finesse with training and, instead, had everything to do with all the personal thoughts I have had for the past couple of days."

Sara cocked an eyebrow, her azure gaze softening now.

Nyssa pursed her lips, weighing whether she wanted to open up. "While you are not privy to that information right now, let me assuage your worry by stating that I have been thinking about my place in the League and what it means to me-- what it means for my future."

Sara didn't understand Nyssa's cryptic reference, but could sense the confusion the other woman must have been experiencing recently.

"Look, Nyssa," Sara said, her voice holding compassion, "I know that we barely know each other, but... you can talk to me. It's better, sometimes, to just talk to someone who will listen. I learned that the hard way growing up."

Nyssa searched Sara's eyes for something, but Sara couldn't tell what the look was about. Abruptly then, Nyssa relinquished her hold on Sara and got off the cot. The blonde rubbed her wrists and sat up, feet dangling over the edge of the cot.

"I've never had this before," Nyssa said to the floor, seemingly ashamed to make eye contact with her partner in conversation. "Be patient with me," the raven-haired woman passively demanded.

"I will," Sara promised. She got up, deciding that all she needed in the world right now for a fresh perspective was a hot shower.

Nyssa sat rooted to her spot, studying Sara as she collected the necessary items for her shower.

"And Nyssa," Sara entreated, "don't ever coddle me. I can take this, whatever this is." 

With that, the blonde left Nyssa's sight, mentally and physically preparing herself for her afternoon.

 

 


	27. It Begins

This area of Nanda Parbat was completely unfamiliar to Sara. As she walked behind Nyssa, she couldn't help but silently marvel at the majesty around her. Intricate stained glass depictions, some of which Sara believed to be religiously symbolic, lined the walls, inserting their colorful dominance among the cleansing white of the marble. Their footsteps fell so lightly on the stone, and the halls echoed with a determined resonance.

Two men, wearing red ceremonial robes, bowed their heads to Nyssa and extended their palms upward in a gesture of deference. Nyssa returned the nod and clasped their hands with her own. She closed her eyes and muttered something incoherent under her breath. Sara took in the scene-- you would never see something like this, a symbolic exchange, in Starling City... maybe in the Western world at all. There was an otherworldiness, an air of spirituality in this place, that made her wonder _why_ people weren't like this everywhere.

And then she remembered where she was headed and the reverie broke over her like a crashing wave. These people may have their customs, their beautiful languages and flags... but they murdered others in its name. They sometimes murdered for hire, for sport.

And she was being trained to do exactly that. Sara closed her eyes for a second, searching inside for some kind of moral acknowledgment-- maybe a center. _Whatever happens, think of your family. Think of what you'd do if they were here._

The thought was less familiar than some of her more recent dreams. Her only true comfort was the predictable weight of the staff she clutched at her side.

Nyssa turned, glancing over at Sara.

"Ready?" she asked. Sara became nervous. Nyssa's speech was terse... not the best of signs.

"I guess," Sara hoped aloud.

"That's good enough," came Nyssa's validation.

The guards nodded and opened the latch to the door. The wood creaked-- a deep, crackling sound. Sara wondered when the last time this room had been used; it sounded ancient.

Nyssa stepped in first and Sara followed.

After her eyes adjusted to the flickering torchlight, she regained a sense of comfort. They were in a windless tunnel crafted from stone. Nyssa held the torch aloft and still spoke under her breath. Sara caught a few recognizable words-- she had been listening, night after night, to Dawa and Nyssa speaking to each other in Arabic. The language now brought Sara a bit of comfort through its mellifluous tones. Nyssa uttered the soft benedictions and moved swiftly through the tunnel's winding path. It was leading down to a brightly lit area. There was a hum of energy coming from the exit.

As they approached, Sara realized that she heard voices-- they were becoming more audible and energized.

Nyssa stopped and Sara bumped into her absentmindedly. She braced herself by catching Nyssa's wrist. The two women stood completely still for a moment, their skin touching. Nyssa still gazed forward, paying attention to what was to come. Sara breathed deeply and unwrapped her fingers from around Nyssa's wrist.

The moment they stopped touching, Nyssa turned. "Remember your training."

Sara nodded, pursing her lips together.

"More importantly, remember _why_ you train."

Nyssa's dark eyes bored into Sara's.

"Good luck, _Ta-er al As-fer_..."

For the first time, Sara appreciated hearing those words.

"When this is over, Nyssa, I'd really like for you and Dawa to teach me some Arabic."

Nyssa's face didn't change entirely but, to Sara, the woman's expression seemed completely different. Her eyes softened around the corners and soft wrinkle lines etched their way up the side of her eyes. The expression was pure and deep-- her smile radiant.

"It would be my absolutely pleasure."

***

Sara barely had time to digest how many people were in the arena. It was, she estimated, at least close to arena size-- this underground cavern. Many of the League members, many of the mothers and children of the assassins who lived in Nanda Parbat, had gathered as spectators for the main event: to watch the nubile acolytes fight for supremacy. It was gladiatorial in nature and Sara felt frightened, stunned.

Nyssa ushered her into the center of the ring space. Sara breathed heavily but tried to keep her face even. It would the ultimate sign of weakness if she wore her fear on her sleeve... that would be unacceptable to this bonded crowd. It would signal disrespect to her opponent, who waited in the half-shadows across the ring.

"Fear is healthy," Nyssa stated while surveying Sara. _Did she stink of it?_ "Channel your fear into strength... if it helps, think not of what your opponent will do to you if you lose, but instead of what my father will do to you should you fail these tests..."

Sara shot Nyssa a look. "Really helpful, you know..." she said.

"It's just long-term strategics," Nyssa scoffed. "You want to survive-- think like a survivor."

Sara remembered her time on the island with Oliver, Shado and Slade. Oliver always had problems adopting the mindset of a survivor. He made careless judgments based on his emotions, based on his values... trying desperately to protect the people he cared about. Slade? He embodied exactly what Nyssa was talking about. He not only survived, but thrived. Yet, he was the opposite extreme-- he trusted no one, to the point of being cynically hardened by human nature.

Sara decided that she would emulate Shado's attitude, to both honor her unintentional sacrifice for Sara and to increase her odds of attaining mental clarity during the fight.

Nyssa wrapped Sara's hands and handed the blonde her staff. They exchanged a gaze, but no words. It was time to focus.

Sara stepped into the ring, letting the roar of the crowds around her fade to an imperceptible din. The woman who stepped into the ring in front of her looked to be about the same age as Sara. She held two sais, one positioned defensively in front of her face and one extended aggressively.

Her opponent had short, mousy brown hair and green eyes. Her face was stony and determined.

Sara could feel her heart beating hard in her chest... _breathe_. _B_ _reathe._

She heard the sound of the gong from what seemed to be far away.

And then it began.


	28. Your Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [I hope you've checked back in because the chapter has been updated!]

The crowd cheered, gesturing wildly; an animal frenzy seized the arena. The mousy haired girl across from Sara ran directly at the blonde, flashing her metallic sais in both hands.

Sara felt somewhat glued to the spot and watched the girl approach her. She held her staff in a defensive position, the granular pieces of the wood beneath her fingertips providing a measure of comfort and clarity.

Under her breath, Sara counted. "One... two... three... four..." the cadence established the girl's footfall. She would be within striking distance in twelve paces.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sara noticed that one area of the arena was not bursting with energy. Nyssa sat next to five men, cloaked from head to toe. They were watching the match silently, quietly assessing the prospects of the two fighters. They placidly whispered to each other like school children.

Nyssa sat, completely silent, staring intently at her pupil. She looked no where else. Her undivided attention rested upon Sara.

In her head, Sara had still been counting... ticking off the paces of her opponent. Eleven...

She reversed her grip on her staff, spinning it clockwise just as her count reached twelve. The emerald eyed girl was close to her, and Sara's maneuver had just parried the sais from striking at her neck. The girl staggered back a pace and growled, infuriated that her offensive was intercepted.

Sara moved her feet a bit more apart to establish some strong footing. She spun her staff over her left shoulder and crouched, lashing out with one end. The wood made contact with the girl's shoulder just as she tried to extend one of her sais out to strike again at Sara.

"Aggh!" the girl cried out. She unleashed a volley of offensive attacks, sometimes stabbing the air and a couple of times, making contact with Sara's body. One of the sharp points of the sais penetrated Sara's left thigh and she bit down hard on her lip to prevent from screaming.

Instead of crumbling, Sara felt her adrenaline spike. She moved in spiral-like movements toward her opponent, brandishing her staff left and right. The girl tried out maneuvering Sara's footwork, but couldn't really establish a set pattern for the blonde's striking maneuvers. Sara danced on her feet, establishing a circular path... suddenly, she saw her opening and stopped her advance. She slammed the staff against her side, moving the wooden beam out in an explosive gesture.

The staff struck down upon the girl's shoulder and she cried out, crashing to the floor from the searing pain of the blow. Sara moved in, stomping her foot down on the girl's abdomen, pinning her back to the floor. She held her staff aloft, poised menacingly above the girl's face. All Sara could feel was the adrenaline coursing through her body, the dulling ache of her side. She saw her own blood on the girl's hands. She took in the pleading look of those emerald eyes staring up at her, begging silently for mercy.

"You won't do it..." the girl stammered. "You're too _weak._ _You have no place here,_ _stupid bird_ ," she spat forth, her body jerking under Sara's stance.

Sara's brows drew together in anger.

Her staff smacked the girl on the skull, rendering her brown-haired opponent unconscious.

"Sleep tight," she grimaced and released her foot from the girl's body.

The crowd had exploded some minutes ago, but Sara didn't care. All she wanted was to be somewhere else, far away from this person she was becoming. The anger, the resentment, the hunger for blood and competition... had this part of her always been there, waiting for an invitation to emerge from the shadows and slip into her daily life?

She gripped her staff in her right hand and used her left to try and sop up some of the blood still emerging from her wound.

 _Always my torso..._ she thought, recalling Ra's and the spear. _I'm going to speak with Dawa about some kind of material I can wear that won't be so vulnerable to blades..._ Sara smiled a bit to herself. She was thinking tactically, maybe as a defense mechanism for feeling vulnerable. Nyssa would be proud if she knew.

As soon as her thoughts alighted on the raven-haired woman, Nyssa appeared. She took the staff from Sara and glanced meaningfully at Sara's flesh wound.

"Come," she commanded, "we must attend to your injuries."

Sara nodded, both eager to leave the arena and grateful that no one else was pressing her for attention. She secretly hoped she would never have to undergo an ordeal like this again. She knew, however, that such a hope was nothing but naive.

Once they had returned to Nyssa's bedchamber, it was the familiar routine. The healers crowded around Sara like hovering mothers, speaking quickly and acting even faster. Sara sat on the cot and let them prod her and examine the depth of the wound.

Nyssa was nowhere to be found. Sara had tried peering around the women to glimpse what the daughter of Ra's al Ghul was up to, but she noticed that as soon as they returned to the chamber, Nyssa spoke with a cloaked visitor and was called away for some kind of meeting.

Sara stared at the ceiling, watching as the dancing flickers of the candles generated shadows that played along the ceiling paths.

She started to wonder about what would happen to her opponent... to the girl she was fighting. She remembered watching the girl's unconscious form get picked up by some of the sinister looking men in dark robes. They carried her away from the arena and through the tunnels. Sara hadn't even stopped to think, at the time, of the girl's fate. Would the League heal her injuries and continue to train her?

The darker thought nudged its way through Sara's mind... would the girl be disposed of, discarded for her weakness and lack of use to the League?

Dawa flicked Sara's forehead in annoyance. "Focus," the woman said slowly, the language rolling off her tongue in an uncomfortable manner. Sara's eyes widened at the older woman's use of English.

"I am, I am, I promise," she lied aloud, offering Dawa a sincere smile as payment for her shortcoming.

The woman clucked at her and hurried off. She gestured to her assistants, who grabbed all of the healing accoutrements and left Nyssa's bedchamber.

Sara got up from the cot and went to Nyssa's bed. Her roommate wasn't there so surely she wouldn't mind if Sara lay down in the comfier of the two sleeping areas. After all, Nyssa had made that logic the presiding one nights ago when she had offered Sara a spot in her bed.

Sara's head hit the soft pillows and she sighed a breath of relief. Once her body sank into the covers, she realized the degree of exhaustion she was suffering. The light from the candles still danced along the ceiling beams and Sara watched the shadows, her eyes growing heavier by the minute.

As she was about to doze off, she heard the creaking of the door and opened her eyes slowly. Nyssa had come back from wherever it was she had been, and was stalking around the room searching for something.

Sara groaned under her breath as she propped herself up on her elbows. "What-are-ya lookin' for?" she slurred, still beaten down from the fight.

"Documents," Nyssa retorted, not breaking her movement around the room.

"Oh," Sara said. She brushed back her blonde tresses and sat fully up against the pillows.

"Why?"

Nyssa ignored the question completely; she rummaged through a chest of rolled up papers, rifling through the contents.

Sara just watched her, mildly intrigued but mostly trying to keep herself awake as to not be rude.

"You need to get up," Nyssa spoke.

Sara grimaced. "Why now?" She felt wary and spent.

"We were assigned a priority mission and need to make our rendezvous point in three hours. Hence, get up..." Nyssa was now collecting some of her treasured items from around the room, including her ceremonial dagger and an intimidating looking bow. 

"What do you mean, we?" Sara entreated.

"The council was impressed with your display of skill today," Nyssa beamed, silently taking credit for some of her student's prowess. "They want to see how you function as a field operative. I am to supervise your movements and help develop your skills during the mission. If you attempt to abort the mission or reveal you are alive, you will not like the consequences."

Nyssa's expression was dead-pan; there was no negotiating terms, no flexibility in the design of the plans. Sara would be coming along, would perform to a standard unbeknownst to her, and would succeed. Otherwise, she would likely be terminated. Sara now had no doubt in her mind that the poor emerald-eyed girl she fought had been brought the same fate by her actions. _She must be dead_ , Sara thought, her mind struggling with the grim reality of what the test really meant today.

She fought the feeling of bile rising up into her throat. It sickened her to think that those in attendance of the fight knew that the loser would be killed. Whether the execution was public or private didn't matter to Sara. How could mother bring their children to such a morbid spectacle, knowing the intended outcome? Perhaps this is what it meant to be part of such an organization. Perhaps, survival wasn't just a skill-set... perhaps it was idealized to the extreme and those who mastered its ways were given power and glorified.

Like Nyssa.

 _Like myself_...

Sara gingerly got out of bed. Nyssa handed her the dossier and Sara opened it, not able to look into Nyssa's eyes. She resolved to take this one thing at a time, to operate under the assumption that maybe once this next task was completed, she would be free from the growing hysteria that surrounded her heart.

**Target: Young, affluent male. Early-twenties. Black hair, 5'8". Inheritance.**

**Mission: Two agent operation-- intercept target in Hong Kong. Interrogate for information. If target proves useful, keep alive for future contact. Termination based on discretion and evaluation of met objectives. Report back within 24 hours.**

Sara swallowed the massive lump that sat at the base of her gullet. 

Nyssa surveyed Sara and placed her hand on the blonde's shoulder. "You are the first non-member of the League to receive such an honor. I hope you are aware that this type of mission is not idly given to those who haven't proved they are made some exceptional substance." Nyssa's lips curled into a smile and her hand stroked down Sara's arm, landing at her elbow.

"I am quite proud of you, Sara."

Sara met Nyssa's gaze, not sure what to say.

"I did what I had to..." Sara began. "To survive..." she broke the gaze, her eyes searching the floor for some kind of existential recognition of her inner struggle.

Nyssa had already swept off to plan the tactical aspects of the mission. Sara stood, eyes glazed, with the document in hand.

She had to be ready for what was next, no matter how it crushed her inside.

 

 

 


	29. Departures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (More is on its way!)

They left at dawn as a light blue ink yawned its way across the sky. Sara and Nyssa were dressed in traveler's garb (like normal people, Sara thought) and sat in the backseat of a jeep that was rocking back and forth over half-paved mountain roads. Nyssa had a crimson scarf wrapped around her neck, shielding herself from the crisp morning air.

Sara held onto the side door handle, still getting used to the rickety ride. Her hair hung in a loose ponytail at her shoulders and the rich blue hue of her shirt caught Nyssa's attention.

It had been quite some time since Nyssa had been out in the field... the more she tried to recollect her last assignment, the faster she realized that her mission had been to murder Dr. Ivo. _What a whirlwind that mission's failure led to_ , she mused silently to herself, feeling her scarf flutter back and forth around the base of her face.

Times like these made it very clear to Nyssa how much she loved her home in Nanda Parbat. Everything there was lengthened, as if the fabric of time stretched itself over a starry hollow, carving out something sacred-- something distinct from the remainder of the world and its mad clamoring.

The fortress shrank behind them as they increased their distance. She already wished the mission could end so they could return to the smooth, stone-walled palace.

Sara reached into her jacket pocket and took something out, holding it gingerly in her hands so it wouldn't catch wind and fly away. The movement caught the corner of Nyssa's eye and she peered at the item.

It was a picture of a young girl with dark hair and an innocent smile. The girl was too old to be a bastard child of Sara's. So who was she? Had Sara been harboring this photo the whole time she was at Nanda Parbat?

"What do you have there?" Nyssa entreated.

Sara's sapphire eyes flitted over and then back down to the image.

"It's complicated."

Nyssa felt a ball of jealousy and anger well up in her chest; her eyes narrowed.

"What ever could be so complicated about a picture?"

Sara caught onto Nyssa's snark. Nyssa watched the woman's gears turn; it seemed that Sara was weighing whether to speak about it to Nyssa.

"Back on the island," Sara began, handing Nyssa the photo so she could visualize the story more, "there was this helicopter that crash landed. The pilot was fatally injured and I sent..." She paused. "...my friends to get whatever medical supplies we had back at the fuselage where we slept. I stayed with the man."

She pursed her lips and took a moment, gazing out the window as they rolled by the sun-drenched mountainous peaks.

"He woke up, completely dazed and begging for help. Once he realized he was going to die before any aid came, he handed me this." Sara pointed to the photo of the young girl. "He handed me this photo and asked me, with failing eyesight, to find his daughter and be there for her... to take care of her since he wouldn't be able to go home. He made me promise before he..."

Sara looked down at her lap, streaks of her hair shielding her face.

"I promised to be there for her, this girl, Cindy, when I got home."

Nyssa eyed the photo once more and passed it over to Sara. She could tell that the woman sitting next to her was experiencing a rush of emotions but, for once, she was unsure of what to say. She wasn't even sure that it was appropriate to respond.

So she listened intently, offering silence as solace. She waited for Sara to continue.

It was a few minutes of jolting car ride before Sara said anything more.

"I'm not going to be able to keep my promise, am I Nyssa?"

Her voice cracked as she uttered the question and she looked directly at Nyssa.

"I cannot answer that question for you, Sara," Nyssa responded with honesty. "You are obligated to the glorious purposes of the League and if you have the opportunity to receive admission as an operational member, you will be bound further by its laws and practice..."

Sara was staring out the window again, her hand over her mouth. Nyssa felt like she was making it worse. The woman hadn't been outside Nanda Parbat's archaic ways for nearly six months. Being exposed to the semblance of a former life, perhaps of a normal life, could be traumatic and foreign. It could be too much to handle, such exposure to reality.

"If you become one of us," Nyssa said, "wherever your home is, I am sure we will have missions there. If you prove your worth, you could be able to visit..."

"That's all I would need," Sara said, her eyes still trained on the horizon.

"That's all I would need."

 


	30. Departures, Pt. 2

This was the third time that afternoon that Nyssa was briefing her.

The ebony haired woman paced impatiently in front of Sara, brandishing a document, her eyebrows furrowed.

"So, as soon as we leave the compound and enter the airport, who are you?" she demanded a quick, intelligible response.

"My name is Diana Lorchester," Sara rehearsed, "and I am on an important business trip to Hong Kong. I was sent as a representative of my company in the States, and am looking to strike a deal on cyber-technology."

"Excellent," Nyssa confirmed. "And I am Lara Phillips, your Executive Assistant, who has prepared your statements and has accompanied you on your trip to make sure the entire process is documented."

Sara nodded vacantly. Nyssa scowled and swatted the back of Sara's head with the manilla folder. "Pay attention!" she snapped. "Once we arrive, there is no breaking character so you have to be as prepared as possible now. You have to live and breathe as if you are this person."

Sara inhaled, waiting for Nyssa to continue her eager diatribe.

"Here," Nyssa said, tossing Sara a pair of black pumps and handing her a nice grey suit and a purple blouse. "Change. We leave in five."

With that, she stalked off to speak to her compatriots.

Sara took the garments to the nearest women's restroom and shucked her current outfit. Once she slipped on the suit pants and blouse, she left the stall and went to the sink. She bent down to slip on the heels and then stared at herself in the mirror behind the sinks as she put on the blazer. She kept staring at herself, in disbelief with how put together she looked. She looked normal, like she really was on some sort of fancy business trip. If anyone saw her walking down the street, they would never know she was a prisoner of conscious, that she had a terrible burden that constantly followed her... that drove her mad some days.

Sara adjusted the bottom of the suit jacket and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. More than anything, how she was dressed reminded her of her mom. Dinah used to take her and Laurel everywhere, while dressed up in professional garb. As a professor, you would think that she would wear more "teacher-y" clothes, as Laurel had always called them. But no. Dinah Lance did herself up in nothing less than a beautifully put together professional suit for her job, and oftentimes, she would take the girls on errands and out on the town in her finest attire.

Sara smiled at the thought, catching a glimpse of her strangely dimpled expression in the mirror. She remembered when her mom took them to the aquarium when they were little... that was one of her favorite memories of them all together! In the car, Laurel had been recounting facts she learned in school about all types of fish and underwater creatures. Mom and Laurel engaged in an in-depth discussion about why certain underwater animals migrated. Meanwhile, Sara had been staring out the window, gazing at the clouds; she was excited beyond belief that they were finally going to see some sharks!

Laurel had made fun of Sara when Sara let their entire family know that the shark was her favorite animal. "Why sharks?" Laurel asked, squinting her eyes across the table. "They're vicious and do nothing but kill other things."

Sara defended the sharks instantly. "No way, Laurel!" she shouted. "Sharks are so unique! Not only do they have an incredible sense of smell, but they are so agile and nimble in the water. Not to mention, they are incredibly patient and calculate when to strike!"

Laurel scoffed. "Well, I just think they kill because they're good at it."

Dinah had piped in with, "Girls, why don't we all go to the aquarium tomorrow and observe them ourselves?" Quentin smiled at his wife. Sara beamed, standing up from the table and grinning from ear to ear. "You mean it, mom?! We're going to see them tomorrow?!"

Dinah smiled at her youngest daughter. "Yes, we sure are! We'll pack our favorite sandwiches and everything!" Sara pushed her chair back suddenly and ran over to her mom's seat, squeezing her in the hug.

With her bright blue eyes staring lovingly at her mom, she declared, "Tomorrow is going to be the best day ever!"

Sara look back at herself in the mirror, the half-smile still lingering along her face. It really was one of the best days. She had even gotten her favorite stuffed animal, "Sharky," out of the adventure. Of course, Laurel didn't let her live the name down, sighing and explaining that naming a shark "Sharky" was incredibly boring and unoriginal.

The door burst open and Nyssa walked through. She surveyed Sara, a misty look plastered on her face.

"You look quite entrancing," Nyssa stated. Sara's eyebrows shot up at the compliment, the very forward compliment...

"The outfit suits your character nicely," Nyssa finalized her statement and adjusted the glasses she wore on her nose. It was so strange a sight to see the daughter of the terrifying Ra's al Ghul clad in a cobalt blue professional blouse, a knee length black skirt, heels and (of all things) wearing designer eyeglasses. Sara felt rude staring and was trying desperately to suppress the giggle that was forcing its way into her throat.

"You look..." she began, and broke into a smile, "somewhat ridiculous... but great all the same!" She managed. Nyssa turned to look at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands down her skirt and adjusting her glasses playfully.

"Well it's certainly a little removed from my usual comfort zone." She turned, observing her figure from behind. "But I think I can manage just fine," the woman smiled, her bespectacled eyes twinkling with a devilish flicker.

Suddenly, Sara felt the same childish rush of joy when she looked at Nyssa. It was the same feeling she had when she learned about sharks when she was younger. Nyssa's predatory yet patient gaze sparked Sara's interest-- a fervent intrigue.

"What is it?" Nyssa asked.

"It's a bit silly," Sara admitted, as they both walked from the bathroom and to the sleek black car that would deliver them to their terminal.

"Yes?"

"I just suddenly got the urge to hug you like the shark stuffed animal I had growing up," Sara said, strutting along in her heels and smiling.

Nyssa stopped and waited until Sara turned around.

"If you jeopardize our mission by hugging people like shark stuffed animals, we're as good as dead." There was complete silence between them. Sara's mood dampened a little.

Nyssa smiled, that knowing grin decorating her face. "I was just jesting," she said.

"But really, no hugs until we've completed our tasks and reached checkpoint."

Sara smiled and caught up with the assassin. They strolled together to their destination, and their car zipped off to the terminal.


	31. It's Just Business

After a full day of travel, Nyssa felt more worn down than she could have cared to admit. Her compatriot, on the other hand, seemed to have an increased burst of energy and was relishing her covert role as an astute business-woman.

The pair got to their hotel and checked into their room. For some reason, Sara insisted that she have the bed by the window. The blonde rushed over to the window and drew back one of the curtains, her hands working furiously to open the sliding glass door. A brief pressure vacuum and then -- _whoosh_ \-- the balcony door slid open and Sara stepped out, the cool night air invading the room. Nyssa watched the entire process and let her gaze linger upon the woman as she stood outside their room, the glowing lights of the Hong Kong cityscape framing her form.

 _As long as she doesn't jump_... Nyssa thought to herself. It felt so foreign to _share_ a hotel room, let alone a mission. She preferred to work alone, especially when the deed to be done was not one she was particularly fond of. Offing some unknown young, wealthy traveler was going to be tough enough. Having Sara there... it complicated her feelings about the mission. She struggled with the feeling as it slithered through her thoughts. She wasn't doubting herself... _No, that's not it_.

Sara came back inside, sighing lackadaisically. 

"Miss Phillips, are you prepared for our high society business dinner tonight?"

The blonde was digging through her bag, rummaging for something. She pulled out a small plastic tube and a pouch of powder and took it over to the sink.

Nyssa just watched, not indulging her roommate with an answer.

Sara poured the contents into the tube and turned on the sink, eying the measurements carefully as the water filled the vial. She capped the tube and shook it, the powder and water mixing.

Nyssa's curiosity got the better of her. "What is that?"

"It's a potent sedative," Sara replied nonchalantly and Nyssa's eyes widened in surprise.

"How did you manage to get that through customs?"

A dimpled smile etched along Sara's face. "Do you want the long version or the sweet and short story?" she inquired and sank down onto her bed, kicking her legs up behind her, much like a young girl would at a sleepover.

"In the interest of our high society business dinner fast approaching, I'll settle with the short version for now."

Sara nodded and cupped her face with her hands. "The short version is that I worked for a psychopathic, egocentric mad doctor on the ship before everything went to hell and you rescued me from the Island."

With that, she got up off the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Nyssa remembered Sara mentioning the doctor once before in conversation. Her father had been greatly interested in the caliber of his scientific work... clearly to assist some League members in the field and make our intrusions in societal affairs much more... _efficient_.

Sara re-emerged from the bathroom, her skin glistening. She was wearing a rouge lipstick and her luminous blue eyes were accented with a silver eyeshadow.

"Let's go," Sara said authoritatively. Nyssa checked herself before reacting to the command. She was, after all, Sara's assistant in this great charade.

"Of course, Miss," she replied as sardonically as possible and opened the door for her superior.

"I'll be sure to have HR give you a raise for all your hard work," Sara retorted, securing her clutch in her hand and double checking that her precious contents were inside.

***

The two women waited downstairs for their business partners to arrive. Nyssa had arranged for them to have the private room at the 5-star restaurant at the hotel. It would be much more convenient to test Sara's field abilities in a disclosed location where, if the operation went south, Nyssa could effectively employ plan B. She had already paid off two of the wait staff and the doorman and had them on standby, instructing them to await her signal for mobilization should she require their services.

They watched across the lobby as a limo pulled up to the revolving glass doors of the hotel's main entrance. The chauffeur hopped obediently out of the driver's seat and walked briskly around the car, opening the door for the man whom they were meeting.

Nyssa watched their target get out of the car. He was medium height (his pictures had made him seem taller but that could have been due to his company), had coal black hair and sported a boyish grin on his face. He buttoned his suit with one hand and walked into the lobby.

"Good evening ladies," he stated with an air of magnanimity. Nyssa extended her hand politely and shook his.

"The pleasure is ours, Mr. ..." She realized they didn't have his name on record. She adjusted her glasses and looked into his eyes, purposefully blushing to have him interject.

"My name is Thomas Merlyn, although you may call me Tommy. And the pleasure is all mine." Again, he grinned. He turned his attention to Sara, who stood as still as an unblinking statue, not speaking and not reaching out to return the gesture.

His brow furrowed. Nyssa caught on quickly and jabbed Sara in the rib. She snapped out of her stupor and shook Tommy's hand.

"Hi there, Mr. Merlyn," she stammered. "I'm so glad you made it to Hong Kong and thank you for meeting us tonight for dinner. My name..." Sara hesitated, letting go of Tommy's hand.

"Please, call me Tommy," he interjected, clearly uncomfortable with the increasing formalities. "Mr. Merlyn is my father and the title only really suits him." Nyssa sensed a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Sara nodded and her eyes darted away from Tommy. "I'm Diana," she completed her thought and grasped his arm, folding hers into it. "Shall I accompany you, Tommy, to our wonderful dinner table that awaits?"

Tommy nodded warmly and the three of them jaunted off to the restaurant.

 


	32. Dining for One

Nyssa shot Sara a dark look as they took their seats at the table. Sara caught the glare and her eyes flitted back to Tommy, who was engaging the waiter with a charming smile that captured the soft wrinkles around his eyes.

"Do you have the wine list, sir?" Nyssa asked, flashing a fake entertained smile at Tommy, who seemed happy to provide plenty of booze for the beautiful businesswomen flanking him.

"Yes please!" He interjected to the waiter and gestured for the waiter to bend closer so he could whisper in the man's ear. He took out a hundred dollar bill from his pocket and slipped it into the man's hand. "Now grab us your finest bottle from the back," Tommy said, winking and looking back at Sara to see if she was impressed.

Sara still had a blank look, a startled look to her,, that surrounded her usually lively face like a shroud of fog. Nyssa's mouth twitched-- not so much out of anxiety about the mission being compromised. It was clear to her that Sara somehow **knew** Thomas Merlyn. And that didn't seem to add up to Nyssa. Her gears turned; she realized quite quickly that after living with and training the blonde for nearly six months (which felt even longer in Nanda Parbat), she didn't know much about where Sara came from... sure, Sara had shared some more sensitive details about her family and the nature of her relationships with her respective family members, but where did they live?

How did she know Tommy? And if she did know him, would he remember her? Nyssa's eyes flared at the thought. There was no way that she could let Tommy remember Sara. If Sara was discovered, Nyssa would have to abandon the training and Sara would be liable to fulfill her oath to the League by penalty of death for such exposure.

Tommy went on chattering about some nonsense vacation he took and Nyssa faked her interest, nodding at all the right moments and laughing when he attempted to make jokes. The only thing Nyssa found funny about Tommy was the way in which he constantly sought out attention. That particular trait of his probably stemmed from some abandonment issue only a parent could so lovingly bestow upon their child over years of ignoring needs and cries out for love. As cruel as it sounded, his neediness would prove handy twice tonight... at dinner now, and later when she would extract information from him.

"Enough about me," Tommy said as the bottle of wine arrived at the table. "To us and this excellent business proposition!" He poured the three glasses, filling them to the brim. Sara and Nyssa took theirs and raised them. The glasses clinked.

"A toast," Tommy beamed. "To the spirit of enterprise, to new partners and to freedom!"

"Cheers," Nyssa said and drank some of the smooth bodied liquid.

"To freedom," Sara reiterated and locked eyes with Nyssa as her lips touched the glass.

Nyssa could tell that Tommy was ready to discuss the deal so they could get back to his more exhilarating accounts of adventures and partying, so Nyssa opened up the discussion.

"Please, Tommy, tell me about what it is the Merlyn Global Group is looking to offer us in return for our technological skills." She gazed longingly at him, as to draw the bulk of his attention toward her and away from Sara, who seemed to still be gathering her thoughts.

Tommy yammered on for several minutes about the assets his father's company could provide their fledgling tech start-up. Their main course came and the three of them began to eat.

"So what do you think, ladies?" he said between two bites of steak.

Sara was the first to speak. "We accept your offer and are very pleased to enter into a partnership with the Merlyn Group." Tommy's eyes lit up immediately and he offered them another round of the house's most expensive wine. They politely accepted his offer.

Time went on and Nyssa felt a light buzzing surrounding her senses, like a dull hum. While the mission was still at the forefront of her thoughts, she couldn't help but pause and imagine -- just for a moment -- what a normal life would feel like. One where she wasn't raised to be the child of binding moral law by a man who practically saw himself as a living god, a dark sorcerer with a sobering purpose.

Sometimes the semblance of the mundane, the ordinary, was so attractive to her that she ached to experience it. Simplicity was too oft missed in the heat of her life.

Sometimes, there existed a profound joy in the smaller things that came and went too quickly. Such as a smile... Nyssa caught glimpse of Sara, across the table, twining her blonde locks through her hair absentmindedly, her cobalt eyes shining in the dim light.

Then, the feelings dissipated and that part of her that her father always said made her superior... set her apart from the others... turned on.

Nyssa nodded to the waiter across the room, who nodded back and ducked into the kitchen. A few minutes later, the waiter brought over a slice of cake with sparklers and began singing to Tommy in broken English. Tommy chuckled loudly and exclaimed, "But, it's not my birthday! Oh, you're too kind!"

Nyssa smiled at him and said, "I hope you enjoy that cake! It's to celebrate our successful deal tonight." She moved her foot under the table to brush her foot up Tommy's inner thigh, her eyes falling on him without pause.

He got the hint and Sara did too. Her eyes widened in surprise and she glanced meaningfully at Nyssa but Nyssa ignored her pleasing eyes. Tommy began scarfing the cake, proclaiming how delicious it was.

After they paid the check, Nyssa said, "Well Mr. Merlyn, it's been a lovely evening. I am sure my employer is exhausted and wishes to retire to our room. I will be sure to walk you to your room as we have taken the liberty of having it readied for you."

"Surely, the hotel staff can accompany him there," Sara said suddenly.

"No, no Mrs. Winchester," Nyssa retorted. "There are some finalized documents I need Mr. Merlyn to sign before the night's end."

Tommy was hardly objecting. He was significantly drunk from the amount of wine he imbibed during the whole dining affair and kept looking at Nyssa's blouse. "I'll sign her documents and she'll be back to you in no time!" he managed.

***

Sara watched as Nyssa and Tommy walked into the elevator and disappeared from her sight. Her heart hammered in her chest as she made her way to their room. She opened her purse to get the room key and realized that the sedative vial was gone. She had failed her part of the mission and now Nyssa had taken over for her... could it be that Nyssa would kill Tommy for the answers she was looking for?

Sara felt like her head was spinning. The effects of the wine certainly weren't helping... but even through the haze, she felt fear. She was afraid that Nyssa had figured out that they - her and Tommy - knew each other. And that it would cost Tommy his life. God, she blanched to think of another innocent life of someone she cared about being taken because of her failure to carry out her tasks.

Even worse, her thoughts kept returning to Nyssa... the way she moved her foot up and down Tommy's leg, the way she bit her lip and stared at him throughout the meal. Sara's blood surged through her body. She remembered the time she awoke in Nyssa's bed, her body entangled with the body of the sleeping assassin.  
She felt the same rush of shame and heady guilt now as she tried to work out whether Nyssa would sleep with Tommy. The thought kept creeping into her head and drove her mad. It was an unacknowledged fear that gnawed away at her insides, upsetting her stomach.

All she could do was wait for Nyssa to return.

 

 

 


	33. Truth Be Told

Nyssa slid the key card in and felt Tommy's hot, wine drenched breath on the back of her neck. He clearly wanted to sign those documents in a hurry...

"Good things come to those who wait..." she teased and pushed him inside the hotel room. He stumbled backwards and clumsily took off his suit jacket, grabbing at his tie and loosening it.

She advanced toward him until he was at the edge of the bed and pushed him down. He let out a groan and pulled her on top of him, as his hands fumbled for her breasts. She quickly intercepted the too eager grab and trapped his hands down upon the bed, using her body as leverage to keep him still.

"I like where this is going," he breathed heavily and tried to kiss Nyssa's lips. She pulled her head back and then moved her mouth closer to his neck, pausing at his ear.

"Be careful what you wish for," she crooned into his ear and got up off of him. He protested but then began to panic, as Tommy realized he couldn't move at all.

"The paralysis is just temporary. Don't fret," Nyssa said, buttoning back up her blouse and dragging over a chair close to the bed.

Tommy's eyes bugged out and he tried to wriggle his limbs. "What the hell?! What have you done to me?"

"Relax, Thomas," Nyssa said. "It'll make this process much easier on you if you relax." She pulled her ceremonial dagger out from her boot and brandished it in front of the prostrate man's eyes.

He sniveled and cried out. "What do you want with me? Tell me and I'll give it to you. I can have my father wire money here in a minute if you're looking to get rich."

She sniggered at the thought. "While that sounds pretty nice, I admit that money is not my concern. Information is..."

Her eyes, now cold as steel, weighed the situation and read that she wouldn't be able to extract information from him for longer than five minutes. The toxin Sara had made was potent but not powerful enough to last long.

"I will promise you, Mr. Merlyn," Nyssa said flatly, "that if you tell anyone what transpired here tonight, I will find you and kill you and everyone you've ever loved. Do we have an understanding?"

A tear slid down his cheek and he murmured yes numerous times.

"I need you to tell me about your father, Malcolm Merlyn. Where is he and what is he doing?" Nyssa played with the dagger's point, precariously balancing the object above Tommy's chest.

"Why do you want to know about my father?" he began to ask. Nyssa responded by lowering the dagger to an inch above his sternum. "I ask the questions, Tommy," she said menacingly. He gulped and asked the question for her.

"He's barely a father to me... whatever you are going to do to him, he probably deserves it," Tommy stated and began telling Nyssa some information about his father. After Nyssa collected the necessary intel, she leaned in close and thanked Tommy.

"You're sweet," she said and then punched him, knocking him out cold.

***

Nyssa went back to their room and opened the door. Sara sat on the floor in between the two beds. Immediately she stood up and confronted Nyssa.

"You went off book!" Sara declared. "I was supposed to be the one to accompany him back to his hotel room and interrogate him."

"Yes," Nyssa said, placing her affects down upon the cheap armchair. "You were. But you were clearly compromised and I couldn't afford to take risks."

"What do you mean I was compromised?!" Sara yelled.

"I mean exactly that. You knew him."

Sara sat down upon the bed, putting her head in her hands and pulling her hair back.

"So, I am right..." Nyssa stated, taking in Sara's reaction.

"Does it matter?" the blonde whispered. "I thought that you trusted me to do my job! So what if I knew him? That was a lifetime ago and he didn't even recognize me, Nyssa!" She advanced toward the ebony haired woman, who stood with arms crossed.

"As I said, I couldn't afford to let you jeopardize the integrity of our mission. You could have tried to escape by informing him of your identity. And then I would have had to kill you both."

"Jesus, Nyssa!!" Sara shouted. "Please tell me you didn't kill Tommy!" She looked desperate. "He is a fool but he doesn't deserve to die." Sara grabbed hold of Nyssa's blouse and tugged, pleading non-verbally.

"No, I didn't kill him..." the assassin shot back, surprised at Sara's reaction.

"Did you..." Sara couldn't get the words out. She was fumbling for the right question. "...sleep with him?"

Nyssa was caught off guard.

"No," she said, "but I certainly had him excited for a minute."

Sara let go of Nyssa's dress shirt.

"I am not going to tell you how we know each other, so stop asking," the blonde said without any prompting.

"You will, in time."

"There are some things that you need to earn, Nyssa," Sara said, staring into the woman's eyes. "Some parts of people are a privilege to experience and to share; you can't just take information. You need to build something stronger first..."

Sara's words were cut short as Nyssa's lips found hers. The assassin pulled the blonde in with a sense of urgency, their kiss deepening so quickly --a fire bursting from the touch.

Sara's hands pulled on Nyssa's hair, her fingertips scratching the woman's scalp as they yearned to deepen the kiss further. Nyssa felt so whole, so pure in this moment as the two of them pulled each other in, closer and closer, as if the expanse was always too far.

Eventually, they broke the kiss and stared, breathless, at one another. Silence ensued as their eyes searched for some mad reason for what happened. Sara got up to turn off the light. They were still in their clothes from the day, but it didn't matter.

"Come here," Sara said and tenderly kissed Nyssa again, drawing her down onto the bed.

The assassin silently obliged and they kissed each other in the total darkness until all they could do was lay together, drifting off to sleep holding one another.

Nyssa kissed Sara on the forehead and drew her close. All the questions faded away. Just one thought remained.

"My _Ta-er al Sa-fer_.." she whispered, and Sara's hand clasped her own as their sleep-laden eyelids drooped and they slept peacefully for the first time in years.


	34. A Song For Tomorrow

"Sara."

"Sara!" The man's voice was more urgent.

Sara snapped open her eyes, the bright light of the sun blinding her momentarily. She winced and blinked away the sting of salt, rubbing furiously at her eyes.

Oliver Queen's bruised, soaked face appeared close to hers.

Startled, Sara sat up, her hands sinking into warm sand. She looked around. They were on the Island and the distinct, acrid smell of smoke constipated the air around them. She breathed heavily as she saw the driftwood on the sea, taking in the sight of the exploded hull of the _Amazo_.

 _How is this possible?_ she asked herself, completely startled. _I'm not supposed to be here..._ she rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the smells and the sun.

Oliver quizzically observed Sara. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low and even.

"I..." Sara began, but didn't know how to explain to Ollie all of the thoughts rushing through her mind. "This is wrong, Ollie..." she continued to survey their environment. "I'm not supposed to be here. I'm supposed to be with her."

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed and his lip drew together. "Her? Who's her, Sara?"

He reached out to feel her forehead and she grimaced at his touch. He frowned, not understanding why Sara was reacting so poorly to her rescue.

"You must be dehydrated or suffering from heat exhaustion..." he said. "When I found you on the shore, you were struggling to breathe."

"When you found me?" Sara asked, her exasperated voice puncturing the soothing sound of the waves.

Ollie nodded. "Do you remember, Sara? Do you remember what happened?"

Sara closed her eyes, flecks of sand and drying salt making her lids heavy. She felt sudden warmth, a soft touch of a woman with raven-black hair and piercing eyes. The woman smiled at her, a sad smile that spoke so loudly. Sara reached out to touch the woman and opened her eyes.

The apparition was gone. Oliver looked concerned and helped Sara to her feet. She felt as if the ground below her was dragging her down, as if this version of reality had immense weight. She clutched at her back as a searing pain emerged from her shoulder blades. Oliver drew back from her, stammering.

She had grown wings-- fully feathered, yellow wings that extended out past her arms and attracted the warmth of the sun. She flexed the new muscles in her back, which caused her wings to move gracefully.

"Oliver! We can escape now! Grab hold and we can fly away from here! We're going home!" she exclaimed, overcome with rapturous joy.

But Oliver lay bloodied on the beach, his throat sputtering blood out upon the sand. Ra's al Ghul stood next to Oliver's lifeless body, his blade dripping, his gaze steady.

"All those you love will suffer and you will never escape." Ra's al Ghul lifted the bottom of his robe and cleaned Oliver's blood off his blade in one swift motion. "There is only one fate for you... and I will be the one to provide you with its payment, Sara Lance - defiler of my house, corrupter of my line."

He lunged at her with the ferocity of a beast from Hell and she flapped her wings, her body deftly lifting from the ground. Ra's howled in fury and watched his prey escape. He vowed his revenge as she flew away. As she flew, the rushing bursts of the wind forced her concentration away from the stuff of her emotions.

After what felt like hours, Sara landed. Exhausted and alone, she found her way to a shelter. The shack had a roaring fire in the hearth and the dry air smelled of citrus and lavender. It all felt eerily homey and familiar.

She collapsed into a crimson armchair by the fire, her damp wings shriveling back up into her back. She took a moment to look at the flames licking the wood and then began to sob, her entire body heaving and rocking with tremendous pain.

A soft voice whispered by her ear. "Live, _Ta-er al Sa-fer_. Live well, for the world would be devoid of great beauty should you choose to give up hope."

At the entreating command, Sara stopped crying letting the devotion of the words wash over her.

She dug through her memory. "What is your name?" she begged the ethereal voice.

The crackling of the fireplace met her cry... nothing more.

She fell asleep in the chair and awoke to a dying fire and a strange song that carried in the air. Sara got up and followed the source of the haunting melody. She left the shack and wandered, shoeless, through the forest beyond the enclosure. The humming grew stronger, energy vibrating throughout the treetops.

The words first came in a language Sara vaguely remembered, with ancient-sounding phrases swelling yet growing softer as she walked.

نانسي عجرم - انت ايه؟

  
انت ايه مش كفايه عليك تجرحني حرام عليك  
انت ايه انت ليه دموعي حبيبي تهون عليك  
طب وليه انا راضيه انك تجرحني وروحي فيك  
طب وليه يعني ايه راضية بعذابي بين ايديك  


 

Then, familiar words met her ears and she stopped to listen... _Who are you? Is it not enough that you hurt me? Shame on you. What are you? Why, my love, don't my tears mean anything to you?_

_And why do I accept that you hurt me when my soul is in you? Why am I accepting this torment in your hands?_

_If this is love, love causes me so much misery. And if I am to blame, I cannot say never again... And if it's my destiny to live in torment, I'll live in torment.  
_

Sara felt her breath catch in her throat as the wind picked up and the soft melody surrounded her.

"Nyssa..." she let the word fall out of her chest. It lingered in the frigid air and then she understood.

The projectile pierced through her heart and she clutched at her breast, crumbling to her knees. Her killer stood a distance behind her, but she knew. She knew that the torment, the misery she had caused was going to come to an end.

And her last thought, with all of the fading conviction she had left, settled on the woman's face.

***

Sara bolted upright, her hands fumbling at her breast as she searched for the source of the bleeding. She was whole, untouched.

 _It was a nightmare..._ she reassured herself, yet hastily got out of bed. Nyssa had been next to her. What had happened was real. It wasn't some dream, some fantasy of her perturbed memory. They had actually kissed, longingly kissed.

Part of Sara felt relieved and the other part of her felt terrified. She had begun to realize that her feelings for Nyssa were real a few weeks ago but didn't even dare to imagine that the assassin felt the same way about her. It defied logic, reason, any rationality Sara could come up with.

Yet, here they were... sharing a bed in Hong Kong, removed from Nanda Parbat's stalwart, insulating walls. She had every chance to escape, to go tell Tommy that she was alive... to somehow go back home... but she couldn't.

She could only think to herself how utterly exhausted the daughter of Ra's al Ghul must be, to have slept in this late. The thought brought a smile to her lips.

Sara sat back down on the edge of the bed, her thoughts clearing. Every thought betrayed her-- she begged herself to leave.

But deep inside, gazing at the woman peacefully asleep in her bed, the most lethal woman she had ever met... Sara realized that, despite the terrors that perhaps awaited, she would be present now. She would stay here with Nyssa.

Shaking off the clammy feelings from her nightmare, she realized she wanted to see where this would go.

Whatever _this_ \- whatever _they_ were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interested in listening to the song I included, here is the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=52f6yri0ITA
> 
> It's sung by Nancy Ajram and is called "Enta Eih?"


	35. Wounds

Nyssa always had a pension for mystery, a desire to remain aloof and free from the tethers that other people represented. Her father had taught her to be uncompromising, unyielding.

Her sister taught her to be wary, resilient, cunning for the sake of sanity.

Her relationships with her instructors over the years taught her patience and precision. She tempered her impulsive yearnings with practice and pain, through trial by fire.

Dawa and the healing women taught her prudence and anatomy, language and clan.

The children, in their reckless mirth, reminded Nyssa of the power of something as innocent as a smile.

What of the others? The countess she murdered... the League members with scars owed to her blade?

She counted her steps as she walked around the concierge floor, absentmindedly glancing at the breakfast selection while recounting her years of growth. Waiters came by and asked her if she needed them to fetch anything for her. Nyssa gave them a fleeting smile and a dismissive wave, muttering 'no thank you' and 'appreciated' as her eyes remained distant.

She grabbed a plate of fruit, a breakfast roll and a cup of black coffee and sat down by the table closest to the window. Usually, she would stay close to the center of a room-- away from transparent surfaces and glass. She knew the precise pressure points of such fragile objects and exactly how quickly the security of the room could be compromised.

This morning, however, she wanted whatever form of isolation could be afforded her. Her hand trembled, just slightly, as she lifted the steaming cup of liquid to her lips. The pungent aroma hit her nostrils and she inhaled deeply; the bitterness was a comfort.

A light rain tapped a cadence against the window pane and Nyssa gazed at the bustling streets below. The early morning shoppers were all opening their umbrellas and dodging the bicyclists who sped through the lanes with reckless abandon.

 _Has Sara stirred yet?_ Nyssa thought suddenly and her stomach flopped.

She had been trying all morning to forget what had happened... what she had _made_ happen last night. As if to subconsciously distract herself from imagining the taste of Sara's lips upon her own, Nyssa took another gulp of the piping hot coffee and burned the tip of her tongue.

Attempting to sort her thoughts was pointless. They all returned to the half nude blonde woman sleeping in her bed, clad in laced underwear and a tight night shirt... Nyssa had lingered this morning after waking up and realizing where they both were. She had surveyed Sara's body curled into the mattress, her lean musculature sculpting her tight frame, her blonde tresses falling carelessly around her face as she slept.

Nyssa popped a grape in her mouth and massaged it with her tongue absentmindedly while the reel of memories from last night played once more through her mind. Every feeling inside her seemed alien aside from the comfort of touching Sara... her mind was usually so sharp this early in the morning, but even the coffee seemed to be having a less than satisfactory effect.

 _What is father going to think?_ The question crept into her thoughts and made her throat itch uncomfortably. Being the oldest and his professed heir, Nyssa knew there was a tremendous responsibility placed upon her to suitably marry a worthy warrior in the League...

The memory rose like bile... When she came of age a couple of years ago, her father had presented a man to her whom she barely knew and commanded her to be with him as he was the most honorable of the allegiant.

Ra's had considered the hand selection to be the utmost honor for his daughter, but Nyssa was appalled by the custom and afraid to be with someone so foreign to her. She finished training one day to return to her chamber, quite exhausted, only to find the warrior awaiting her. He was stark naked, lying in her bed.

"Get out," Nyssa snapped to the man, who got up from the bed and held up his hands.

"Nyssa, this is what your father desires. I promise to be as gentle and giving as I can be. I know this must be difficult for you..." he said, walking towards her slowly, trying to pacify her. She averted her eyes from his dangling genitalia.

"I will not ask you again." Nyssa was adamant. "Get out! I never want to see you again." His eyes flashed in the dimming afternoon light of her bedroom. The man stopped and glowered at her, his pride clearly injured. His tone abruptly changed.

"I will not let a mere woman dishonor me, even if she is the daughter of the Demon. My Lord wishes us to be one and I will fulfill his wish, even if it means abandoning yours."

Nyssa's eyes widened in a moment of fear as he advanced on her, his naked body pressing hers against her dresser forcefully. He groaned into her and groped greedily for her breasts. "I hope it's not too painful," he whispered into her ear, no longer putting on a show.

"You will rue the day you stepped in here..." she hissed, a tear silently sliding down her cheek. She elbowed his ribs hard and he stammered backward, trying to recover from the unexpected blow of pain.

Opening her drawer, she reached for the dagger stashed underneath her intimates. As he was about to use all of his weight to push her back against the dresser again, Nyssa yelled furiously and thrust the dagger into his chest. She watched the whites of his eyes go dark as he fell to his knees in front of her.

"I hope it's not too painful..." she jeered as he died. Then, she crumbled to the floor and wept. Minutes later, Dawa rushed into the room at the sound of her ward's sobs.

Nyssa remembered her father's reaction. He had slapped her hard across the face. Her refusal to bed the man was seen as a direct disobedience to his order, as well as a departure from the custom of their house.

She would not shed any tears in front of him, the cold man who broke her heart that day and caused her such wrenching anguish. She refused to let him see her weakness. "You will not tell me what I can and cannot do with my body," Nyssa spoke after collecting herself. Her cheek still burned from the slap, but her eyes blazed with a concentrated fury.

"You disgust me, father," she dared say before the Demon's Head. "I am your daughter, your _Heir_!" She nearly spat the words at him. "And you would have me raped before seeing me choose my own future? Someone to love?" The tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she held them at bay.

Ra's looked at Nyssa, measuring her with one calculated glance before turning his back to her. "Leave my presence. You dishonor me."

Her fists clenched and her whole body trembled, but he continued.

"Until you learn that there is no such thing as the love you seek, you continue to be but a child..."

Nyssa, with all her will, turned on her father and began to walk off before his final words pierced her very core.

"Your mother believed I loved her, in the end..." he said, his speech slow and deliberate. "She left this earthly world a fool. It would be wise of you not to follow her example, _Nyssa_." He drew out the syllables of her name such that it followed her footsteps as she exited his ceremonial hall.

Her mind returned to the coffee clutched in her hands. Despite the heated molecules streaming from the cup into her palms, they still felt clammy and she felt exposed.

Nyssa turned over her father's words. She had always suspected that her father killed her mother out of mercy, for a life in the League was fraught with danger and death. But she knew better after that confrontation years ago. She knew that he, more than anything, just used her mother as a vessel to birth him an Heir. Then, he disposed of his first daughter's mother as easily as he would have disposed of a mission target.

Why would she think that her experiences could be any different? Her life was tied to the League and she had never experienced the reverie of free will... the halcyon joy of an embrace she desired... the touch of soft lips... the light of warm, blue eyes. Until now. Until last night... 

_My allegiance is to my people, to the League_. Just the fact that she had to rehearse it over and over again in her head was proof enough that her feelings betrayed her. For once, would she let herself feel, perhaps foolishly, the present without machinating about the future?

For once, would she be whole and unperturbed with the one person who didn't see her as an heir... or a monster?


	36. What Once Was

The packet of information had been slipped under their hotel room door that morning just as it had been delivered similarly the morning before. Sara was still lying face down on the mattress, a tangled mass of sheets covering only part of her body. The air conditioner had hummed back to life and Sara shivered; her feet were chilled. _At least we have AC_ , she mused silently and turned over onto her back, gazing at the ceiling and feeling the cool air circulate around the room.

Her dreams felt like a distant haze although she picked up pieces of them during her waking moments. Particularly, there was a beautiful refrain dancing through her thoughts... perhaps Dawa or Nyssa had sung it before? She swore it was in Arabic, and didn't know where she could know it from if not her time at Nanda Parbat.

Sara lazily glanced about the room, letting the rays of sunlight from the window play upon her cheek and chest. Their clothes were no longer strewn about the floor... Nyssa must have tidied them up before going wherever it was that she was right now.

The part of Sara that was changed by her experiences both on Lian Yu and within Nanda Parbat begged her to get up, read the documents on the floor by the door, and start her day. But Sara was having an easier time this morning pushing back the neurosis and the anxiety that she found could usually be quelled by movement. She wanted nothing more to lay there, stretched out on the bed in as little clothing as possible, drinking in the memory of the night before.

 _We just kissed..._ she laughed to herself and bit her bottom lip. _It's not like we had sex or anything..._ her thoughts trailed off at the sudden thought of deepened intimacy with Nyssa. She pressed her lower back into the bed and let her head drop back, sighing. She felt flushed so she removed her tank top and underwear and pulled the sheets up to her neck, deciding that today she would rest. _And heal_.

The mechanized lock to their room clicked and Nyssa walked through the door, pausing to bend down and retrieve the packet from the carpet.

"Are you planning on getting out of bed today?" she asked Sara while rummaging through the documents.

Sara grinned and sat up against the headboard. "I was planning on staying in bed..." she said coyly, her breasts exposed.

"It seems we have much to accomplish before we head back to Nanda Parbat," Nyssa retorted, totally oblivious to Sara's nudity.

Sara, irked, made her proposal much more explicit. "Would you like to come join me?"

Nyssa looked over to where Sara was laying and her face changed, a slight tinge of color emerging on her cheeks, her eyes glossed and distant.

After a few moments of silence, Nyssa came over to the bed and sat down upon the edge. "Sara," she began and Sara responded by wrapping her arms around Nyssa's shoulders and kissing along her neck line. Her actions were met with silence.

"Sara..." Nyssa said again, unmoving. Sara stopped her trail of kisses and gave Nyssa a little space. "What is it?" she entreated.

"We can't..." Nyssa fought against the words as they came out of her mouth. "...do this... be together like this."

Sara pulled back from Nyssa's warm skin and gave the woman some space, surveying her quietly. It was clear that Nyssa's expression was betraying her emotions.

"Funny," Sara pointedly said, "you're the one who initiated that incredible kiss last night..."

Her observation was met with silence.

"Not to mention, before we were deployed here together, you told me you couldn't be compromised..." The azure lights of Sara's eyes flickered with understanding.

"Nyssa... you were trying to tell me you had feelings for me, weren't you?" she asked gingerly.

It took Nyssa a few minutes to muster her response.

"Yes."

Her lips parted as if she had more to say, but she got up and walked over to the curtained window, staring at the cityscape.

Sara felt a surge of energy within her-- she had been wondering about the cryptic and heated conversation they had had after Nyssa had left Sara, bruised and beaten, in the dojo that day.

While she wasn't certain what effect her motion would have on Nyssa, she decided moving in to comfort the assassin was her best choice. It instinctively felt right. Sara followed the black haired woman to the window and came up behind her; she slowly reached out until her hand touched the woman's hip, and when Nyssa didn't flinch, Sara pressed her body against Nyssa's. She wrapped the woman from behind, her fingers laced together around the woman's stomach in a comforting gesture.

Sara felt a trapped breath escape Nyssa's lungs, and as her ribcage contracted, she realized that the woman's stress was melting away just a little bit. Whatever she was carrying, whatever weight she felt pressed upon her, was lifted and removed by Sara's embrace.

It felt as if they stood there, pressed into one another, for a long time. Yet, when Sara moved to break their embrace, Nyssa's cool hand covered her own.

"Stay," the assassin commanded, still facing away from Sara.

"As long as it takes," Sara responded, audibly confirming the conviction she felt.

For some reason, Sara envisioned the pair of them standing together like this on a sunlit pier overlooking a calm sea. The image welled up in her thoughts and brought immediate comfort, a visceral abstraction representing all the certainty Sara yearned for.

Nyssa broke her reverie. She turned to face Sara, her eyes glazed and slightly puffy. Sara knew she had been crying silently but did not mention it. Nyssa was extremely proud and, if it was important enough, she would broach the topic herself.

"I..." Nyssa fumbled for the right phrase. Sara waited, patiently. "I'm sorry for what I said to you. I was misguided and this is difficult."

A car honked loudly in the street outside their window. Their emotional confrontation had stolen Sara away from the reality of where they were. Nyssa's words, now, were bringing her back to that stark realization.

"I feel shame for ignoring my feelings and humiliation for accepting them..." Nyssa told Sara, baring something raw and hurting. "I'm not sure how to acknowledge both feelings and be with you, let alone adhere to my duties to my family and our code."

Sara smiled softly, her cheeks dimpling. "You know what, Nyssa?"

Those raven eyes met hers. Even in her moments of personal confusion, the Heir to the Demon was radiant. Sara tucked a strand of Nyssa's hair behind her ear and look intently into her eyes.

"I accept that. And you. And while I have no idea what I am doing, for some reason I trust that we can figure this out-- not individually-- but together. You didn't have to save me, you know. Yet, you did..."

Nyssa's eyes probed the blonde's in front of her; her muscles in her shoulders softened at the recollection.

"Maybe," Sara continued. "We were meant to save each other."

A tear slid down Nyssa's cheek and she didn't bother to hide the emotion from Sara. She leaned in and wrapped her arms around the blonde's waist, letting her head bury into Sara's shoulder.

"Thank you."


	37. Operation 0

A couple weeks later, their conversation drifted into the backwater of their thoughts and a quiet numbness set in. The orders they had received in Hong Kong were a sort of mission creep from Sara's failure to extract relevant information from Tommy. Little did the League know that she had been such a loose cannon, as Nyssa cleverly covered up the faux pas and made it seem like a tactful, cogent decision on part of the duo.

In fact, Nyssa surmised, _I've been doing too much of that of late..._ she had been smoothing over small blunders Sara made. The blonde had been hapless, somewhat adrift mentally since their confession. And, while Nyssa took some pleasure in knowing perhaps the substance of Sara's thoughts, she worried about her student's ability to make sound, efficient decisions in the midst of difficult situations.

 _Yet another topic we should broach when we have the time..._ Nyssa thought to herself as the muffled noises of the flight crashed upon her eardrums, interrupting the fluidity of her musings. They had been hustled away from Hong Kong and had been traveling in earnest in pursuit of an arms dealer who had a bit too much sway in the political shapings of Uzbekistan. His promotion of shadow market economics had troubled the League for some time, and now it seemed his end game was near. While it was easy to guess that he desired not just greater reputation for disruption but also a measure of international fear and respect, Nyssa believed that his recent escapade had been a fatalistic error. And her father had agreed, sending his daughter documents chronicling Mr. Frernech's blunder and insinuating that her mission would capitalize on the dealer's mistakes.

They sat in the chopper-- Nyssa as co-pilot and Sara in the back-- soaring over the rural Uzbek countryside; Nyssa looked down at the quaint villages that so closely resembled the mountain dwelling surrounding Nanda Parbat. For a few days, she had been longing to return home, to retreat to the shadow of the mountains and the sweet beckoning solitude she so desired.

Instead, the whirring beast of a machine noisily stormed through the sky and Nyssa adjusted her noise cancelling headphones to better surround her ears. Sara seemed unperturbed by the noise; she starred curiously down at the panorama of country, letting her eyes wander across the landscape.

 _Her eyes capture so much light_ , thought Nyssa, recalling their embrace in Hong Kong. Her stomach churned uncomfortably as she remembered how she had broken down in front of Sara. No one had seen her that exposed in a long time. Not since childhood, really.

The pilot spoke over the com system in broken English, gesturing to a landing platform. Nyssa followed his gaze.

The helicopter circled around the landing pad a couple of times, as the pilot communicated with the crew on the ground. Then, they descended and touched down. Once the cacophony of whirring ceased, Nyssa removed her headphones and got to work, tipping the pilot generously before donning her pack of gear. Sara had already descended from the copter, her bags in hand. Her blonde hair swept back with the gusts of wind, and her dark sunglasses masked her expression. She seemed eager to leave.

They walked silently, side by side, until they reached the hangar where their car was waiting for them. A taller man, balding slightly, approached and bowed deeply to Nyssa. She returned the gesture with a little less depth to her bow. Sara walked straight to the car, not wasting her energy on such formalities. The man eyed her peripherally, pursed his lips together in annoyance, and turned his full attention to Nyssa.

"Welcome to my country, Ms. Raatko," his head bobbed. She smiled and thanked him for the transportation.

"My name is Akasi; I was sent here to make sure you have what you need for your... enterprise." His stutter before the word hardly went amiss. Fully aware that Akasi understood the reasons for their being in his homeland, Nyssa extended an olive branch to ease the tension on his face.

"I am honored to serve the Uzbeki people, Akasi. I do hope that we do not overstay our welcome here..."

He smiled at her flattery, "What do you need from me before you head to Tashkent?"

"I require directions to this address," Nyssa took a piece of folded paper from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. He frowned and then told her where to go, somewhat begrudgingly.

"Thank you," Nyssa said and open the passenger door, placing her gear bag upon the backseat.

A hand touched her shoulder. "Ms. Raatko," Akasi said, his voice trembling, "are you sure you don't require any additional services from my men?" He paused for a moment, glancing in the car at Sara - who was reclining and still wearing her sunglasses, her feet draped upon the dash - and continued. "I hardly think where you are going is safe for just two women."

Nyssa had heard this chivalric, naive concern before. She tutted, her eyes somewhat snake-like. "Akasi, while your concern doesn't go amiss, two women with such _credentials_ as ours hardly need protection." She opened the driver's door and got into the car, rolling the window down.

"Once our target is terminated, I will contact you for extraction."

Then, with the engine roaring to life, the pair took off toward the capital city.

***

 


	38. Operation 0.1

Sara felt more exhausted now than she had in weeks and refused to admit it out loud. Nyssa's sidelong glances told her that they both acknowledged this unspoken fact but wouldn't address it.

She was fine with that. Being on the move with such rapidity since Hong Kong was a frustration for Sara. Somehow, staying in one place seemed to have more of a sense of progress than cavorting about in relentless pursuit of some arms dealer, whose operations were carefully covered up and deeply embedded in the market structures of the locale.

They were in a marketplace in Tashkent, milling through the bustling streets, their clothes developing a fine layer of caked dust. Sara couldn't make out any familiar words in the local dialect, which furthered her uneasiness. She had to rely on Nyssa's linguistic knowledge to get through the majority of their critical investigative work. After her flop with Tommy, Sara wanted to prove her mettle and her dependence on Nyssa's know-how felt like a thorn lodged in her side, making her increasingly irritable.

Nyssa was speaking animatedly to a female kiosk keeper, so Sara continued to feign her interest in the baubles displayed before her eyes. She reached down to pick up an ornate teapot. The ceramic was hand-painted and designed to display radiant circular patterns of color around its base and lip. It looked like one of the historical specimens her mother would have brought home from Central City University to study with great care. _I miss her rants about academic trivia..._ Sara thought, turning the ornate object over in her palm, imagining she was critiquing it as her mother would.

There was a soft tug on the bottom of her blouse and Sara looked down to find a small girl at her side, gazing up at her with hungry eyes. The little girl said something softly, almost inaudibly, and her eyes darted to the floor as she spoke. She outstretched her hand to Sara, who stared down at the child, unsure what the girl was saying. She looked to be about eight and had dark, braided hair that came down past her shoulders. Her eyes were soft but the dirty marks along her cheeks and her cracking lips said that the girl had seen some tough times, especially of late.

Once again, the girl stretched her open palm to Sara.

"I'm not sure what you're saying, sweetheart," Sara said, and the girl pointed to the teapot and tapped her palm again, mumbling. _She thinks I'm trying to steal the item... she's asking for money._

Sara placed the teapot back on the table and shook her head no, her expression reading that she was sorry for the confusion. The little girl turned her attention to a man who was watching the transaction from the shop next door. His face was stern and cold, and he clicked disapprovingly when he saw Sara replace the item back in the inventory pile.

The little girl turned white and her face fell. She began to walk away when Sara suddenly tapped the girl on the shoulder.

"Here," she said, plunging her hand into her pocket and retrieving two colorful bills. She placed the bills in the small hand of the girl and made sure the girl's fingers wrapped tightly around the money so no one else saw what was clutched in her fist.

Those soft brown eyes lit up with surprise and the girl stared at Sara, who was smiling and kneeling next to her.

"I know you'll put it to good use," the blonde said, patting the girl's head and giving her a wink. The little girl smiled back and took something from inside her dress pocket and handed it to Sara-- it was a little doll wearing a beautiful blue dress. Sara was sure it meant a lot to the girl and looked up to thank her but the girl had disappeared from sight.

"Shopping for essentials again?" Nyssa said sarcastically as she gestured towards the child's play-thing Sara was holding.

"Definitely," Sara retorted, still scanning the crowded market for a sign of the little girl's whereabouts. It seemed their brief moment of exchange, of friendship, was over.

Sara stood up and pocketed the doll in her back jeans-pocket, making sure her blouse covered the parts of the toy that stuck out from her pocket. Nyssa eyed her actions and then gave her report.

"I have news. The shop keeper saw our mark about a day ago, so our trail is fresh to follow. There is a local shisha bar where him and his buyers like to make deals, and the word is that they will be there tonight." She slipped Sara a piece of paper with untidy scrawl upon it.

"That is the address," Nyssa continued, leaning in close so she wouldn't have to speak so loudly. Sara glanced at the paper and read, ул. Зарафшан, 1302020 Tashkent, Uzbekistan.

"Great," Sara heard herself say, halfheartedly.

Nyssa's dark eyes probed over Sara, her lips drawn together. Then, she pulled Sara's arm into her own, flashing a knowing smile.

"Before talking about the details of our duty tonight, why don't we enjoy the rest of our day, hmm?" she whispered into Sara's ear. "I hear the local food is something to write home about."

Sara felt her expression soften and she let out a chuckle. "Well, this is a surprise!"

Nyssa beamed proudly and began to escort Sara around the market stalls. "I'll have you know that I'm full of them," remarked the assassin as she paid a shopkeeper handsomely for two glasses of some exotic fruit juice.

"You mean you're _full of it_?" Sara jested back. This is what she had been missing, the element of the equation that came so seldomly. She yearned for this dance between them; the folly of being together temporarily excised Sara's insecurities from her mind, and she let Nyssa guide her around the sun-streaked market until dusk settled upon Tashkent like a blanket.


	39. Botched Attempt

Nyssa didn't use the word _joyful_ to describe many things, the least of all her emotional state. But, she honestly couldn't help it. Spending time with Sara Lance was the closest she had approximated to bliss with another person.

There were more eloquent words to describe the timbre of the feeling but she settled on _joyful_.

It was Sara's smile that brought the word to her lips. They had made their way back to their lodgings after a busy day gathering intel and enjoying the atmosphere of the bustling market. They neared the quaint structure on the outskirts of the city. Privy to Nyssa but unbeknownst to Sara, this dwelling was much sturdier than it looked. The League spared no expense combing priority locations and fortifying strategic safe houses as regional outposts. To an outsider, the structure resembled typical low-income housing. It attracted much less attention that way. Foreigners were common targets for local gangs and mercenaries looking to make quick coin.

Here they were shielded by the cloak of local bias.

 _One less thing to worry about_.

"This is it?" The disappointment in Sara's voice was palpable; she scuffed her boot against the sandy earth, adjusting the pack slung over her shoulder. "Some place, huh."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, Miss Lance," Nyssa said absentmindedly as she looked for the hidden key compartment.

Sara scoffed. "I would say I'm not judging you, but I'd be lying..." Nyssa frowned and her eyes narrowed.

"At least I'm being useful and not just standing there being judgmental."

Placing her pack down on the ground, Sara walked over to Nyssa and slipped her hand around the woman's torso, pretending to search for the key along the wall. Her cheek brushed Nyssa's as she spoke. "I'm sorry that you're so sensitive and snappy tonight," she teased and brought her lips closer to Nyssa's earlobe.

"Sara..." Nyssa's usually commanding voice faltered. "You are beginning to adopt the habit of choosing the worst times to... seek my attention."

"I love how you get even more sophisticated sounding when you're flustered," Sara jested and waved something silver in the air in front of Nyssa. She had found the key.

Sara jiggled the key in the door handle and turned to face Nyssa, her cheeks dimpled and eyes alight. She reached out with the hand not gripping the doorknob and pulled Nyssa against her. Sara's lips moved past Nyssa's warm cheeks and found her neck. 

"Sara..." Her moan escaped her lips, breathy. Sara kept sucking tenderly at the sensitive spots along her neck, not indulging Nyssa with any other response than the one she desired to give the assassin.

Nyssa pulled the blonde's waist against her own, heat entrapped between them. Aggressively, she lifted Sara's face until their lips met, a ravaging welcome.

"Inside... now." Nyssa broke their kiss just long enough to mouth the words. Sara nodded and then grabbed a fistful of Nyssa's raven hair. They stumbled backwards into the lodge and their kiss deepened. Nyssa, feeling overheated, began taking off her black leather jacket and Sara's fingers fumbled to hasten the action.

Once off, Nyssa slid her hand up Sara's blouse and Sara moaned with delight as Nyssa's fingertips playfully circled over her bra, cupping her breast.

"Where's the bed?" Sara asked, her hair tousled and wild.

"It's over here."

The voice came from the corner of the dimly lit room. Nyssa's chest pounded with fear and Sara, with frightened eyes searching for the disembodied voice, whirled toward the far side of the room.

In a lounge chair, silhouetted, sat a lithe woman whose heels glinted in the lamplight. Nyssa couldn't see her entire figure, but hearing her speak was enough to know whose presence they were caught in.

"Good to see you again, sister," Talia al Ghul stated slyly. "It's been far too long."

 


	40. The Demon's Quest

"It's been so long... at least two years, if I am not mistaken," Talia mused, shifting her weight in the chair and leaning forward.

Her expression was masked and Sara had trouble reading it, but she hurriedly fixed her blouse and ran her hands through her unwieldy hair. Nyssa increased the space between them while Talia's gaze bored into her sibling, weighing and measuring her presence. Her foot rhythmically tapped against the floor, the shadows of the flickering fire cavorting with her shadow like a marionette.

"Too short if you ask me," Nyssa huffed, and then barked, "What are you doing here?"

Talia arched an eyebrow and ignored Nyssa's demand entirely. She stood up and calmly walked over to Sara, outstretching her hand. As she drew nearer, Sara noticed the woman's obsidian dress, the pearls draped about her neck, her sweeping brown hair, and the vivid green of her eyes. Talia shared some of Nyssa's more prominent facial features, including strong, dark eyebrows and higher cheekbones. Yet, even will all their striking similarities, Talia and Nyssa were so different... Sara felt exposed with Talia's eyes trailing after her.

"I don't believe I've had the pleasure," the woman crooned, clasping Sara's hand. Her skin felt deceptively soft but her grip was firm and unrelenting. Sara began to feel uncomfortable with the pointed staring and wrenched her hand free of Talia's grasp.

Talia surveyed Sara and, without a moment's hesitation, asked, "So how long has my sister been in love with you?"

Sara couldn't see Nyssa's expression but could feel her bristle. She feared what Nyssa would do with the statement that lingered in the air, but the only sound was the crackling of the fire. Talia rolled her eyes and resumed her seat.

"Don't worry, she is usually this vocal about her feelings. Always has been," Talia remarked offhandedly and absentmindedly traced her fingertips over the velvety arms of the chair.

Sara broke the silence, since she wasn't sure Nyssa was going to any time soon. "You're stalling. Why have you come to us?"

Talia's emerald gaze lingered and she opened her mouth slightly to answer, and then closed it again as if re-calibrating her strategic position.

"Fair enough. You're being replaced on this mission by two operatives. I have them currently stationed at a rendezvous point not far from here, ready to make the switch..."

"You're... needed on the home-front, back at Nanda Parbat."

"Why?"

The question earnestly escaped Nyssa's mouth before she could recover her composure.

Talia arched an eyebrow. She wasn't expecting the outburst from her sister.

"No reason in particular," came the drawl. Nyssa's fist clenched. "Father just wants to have you close to him. He misses you dearly."

Sara's mouth twitched at the mention of Ra's al Ghul and she instinctively traipsed her fingertips over the fabric covering her abdomen.

 

 


End file.
